Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs
by LyricalKris
Summary: Edward didn't know where he was going to sleep at night, let alone which way was up. Carlisle had shelter and an expectation of what the next day would bring-loneliness and the ever-present guilt over losing his own son to the streets. What a person is capable of depends greatly on how many of their needs are being met.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I contributed the first two chapters of this fic to the Fandom for Mental Health.**

 **Mental health is an issue I care about tremendously. I've been suicidal. I've been depressed. I know what it's like to walk around with an invisible illness, to be mistaken for lazy and awkward when it's really taking all of what very little strength I have to make it through each day. I was proud to be part of the compilation, and I look forward to finishing this journey with you.**

* * *

 _ **Physiological**_

 **Prologue:**

Another night. The nights were endless. He wondered how many nights it had been. He'd count them off—scratches on the wall just like in the movies—except that more often than not, he had no walls. He could tally mark the dirt, but even the patch of dirt he was trying to sleep on wasn't his. Sleeping here tonight wasn't a guarantee he could sleep here tomorrow.

It was damn cold tonight. A brutal cold. The kind that made him feel every inch of his skin. His blood felt thick and frozen. He'd been sluggish all day, and yet he couldn't sleep. He raised his quaking hands to his lips and blew out a shaky breath, trying to warm them. It wasn't like he was going to freeze to death in California. If he was freezing to death, he'd be numb.

Edward closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of despair. He was so cold and so tired. Desperation clawed at him. It was maddening. Within eyesight were dozens of buildings. He could imagine perfectly how warm any of them could be. All of them likely had carpet, too. He would gladly sleep in the lobby of any of them. Just for the night. He'd be gone before the business people trickled in to start their workdays.

He tightened his arms around himself.

At this point in his life, he should have been there in one of those buildings. How could it be that after three years, he still couldn't quite believe this was happening to him? If he thought about it for more than a few minutes, he felt pathetic on top of desperate. Shouldn't he have been able to pull himself up by his bootstraps by now?

When he was a freshman in college, in his first life, he vaguely remembered learning about something called Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. It was a simple concept, a pyramid of needs designed to make budding psychologists and sociologists understand what a person, otherwise sane, could be expected to care about. As each level of the pyramid was met, increasingly "trivial" concerns could be dealt with.

The very top of the pyramid were self-actualization needs: morality, creativity, spontaneity, problem solving, lack of prejudice, and acceptance of facts. At the very bottom were physiological needs: breathing, food, water, shelter, somewhere to take a crap, and homeostasis—physical equilibrium.

That was the problem with homelessness, Edward thought bitterly. In quiet moments like these, he understood in his educated, more rational mind what was happening to him. He couldn't meet all of his most basic needs; he was stuck on the lowest level of the pyramid.

He was lucky enough to live in Orange County. Anyone who knew how to look at a resource list could be well-fed in Orange County. He got $194 a month in food stamps. He knew every food pantry and how many times a month he could visit each one. Food was relatively secure, though getting from one end of the county to another proved a challenge on occasion.

It happened often that he didn't know where he was going to spend the night. Orange County didn't have a year-round shelter. Mercy House operated two shelters from October to April, but that was no guarantee. Sometimes they had no room. As they operated from a working armory, if the space was needed for the army, the homeless were shit out of luck.

Even when, like now, Edward managed to find a corner to curl up into, there was always the issue of sleep.

Hunkered down with his sleeping blanket up, his hoodie pulled tightly around him—hood up—and his knees curled close to his chest, protecting his backpack, he was still both cold and paranoid. A commotion drew his attention.

The strangers drew closer. Two men. A chill went down Edward's spine. He pulled his hoodie down and ducked his head. He tensed. His fingers closed around his knife. He switched the blade out, wincing at the audible click. They got closer.

They passed him, stumbling. Drunk maybe or high or just broken. He didn't look close enough to tell. He propped himself up again. Against his little patch of wall on his little patch of dirt.

He took the knife out, fumbling. He scoffed. Could he have defended himself if one of those guys came for his meager possessions? Probably not. He was useless. Good for nothing.

A useless lump.

The blade of the knife glinted in the moonlight. In an instant, Edward started to imagine pressing it into his skin, from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. He imagined the sting—would it be better than the bitter cold?

His blood would still be warm. The warmth would be the last thing he felt, wouldn't it?

Edward's eyes blurred with tears. He blinked them away, trying to regulate his breathing. He forced his gaze away from the blade to the hilt. He traced his finger along the familiar inscription.

Carlisle Cullen.

Jasper's father. It was Jasper's knife. Jasper's father's knife, actually. Jasper who saved his useless life.

Edward quaked for a different reason now. No. He couldn't waste Jasper's gift. The poor bastard was already dead. He needed to make it count.

Carlisle Cullen.

Did his father know Jasper was dead? Did he know how he died? That he'd died a hero? That he'd died because he was brave?

Remembering, Edward shuddered. He remembered watching through blurred vision. Watching what those two assholes had done. He'd been out of it; helpless but to watch with uncomprehending eyes.

His breath quickened, and Edward gasped. He was going to freak out if he didn't get a handle on this right now. His mind scrambled.

He could find Jasper's parents. His father. Maybe he couldn't figure out how to change his situation, but he could probably do that much. He remembered everything Jasper said about his parents. Maybe he was a pathetic waste of space, but he was still a smart man. He could find Carlisle Cullen.

A goal. An achievable goal. Something to focus his scattered brain.

Calmer somehow, Edward closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to Betsy, Eleanor, Packy, MoH, and Mina. Check out the gorgeous banner Mina made me. Hearts.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again, doves. Let's meet Carlisle, yes?**

* * *

The alarm went off, and Carlisle opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, letting the grating trill of the alarm continue unabated. He breathed in through his nose, searching for energy he didn't have. He closed his eyes again and recited his list in his head.

 _Shut off the alarm. Put your feet on the floor. Take a shower._

He shut off the alarm. He put his feet on the floor. He shuffled to the bathroom. When he got out of the shower and stretched his hand out to get his toothbrush, he paused.

Some days, the scar that ran the length of his inner arm, from wrist to elbow, seemed more terrible than others. Today was one of those days. Carlisle's heart wrenched in his chest, and he closed his eyes. He clenched his fists at his sides, breathing through the wave of agony that hit him. For a handful of moments, he wished with everything in him that he'd been successful at this attempt.

He opened his eyes and held out his other arm. There was a scar there too. It was much smaller—a swoop, almost like a Nike symbol. His father had caught him in the act and had ripped his hand away, dragging the razor across his skin instead of down.

Taking another deep breath, Carlisle reached again for the toothbrush, this time studiously ignoring the scar. He was alive. Most days, he thought being alive was only what he deserved. He would get dressed. He would eat the same bland breakfast he ate every day. He would go to work. He would come home to this empty, too-quiet house. A nearly pointless existence.

Living was his purgatory. Though he felt like a very old man, he was actually quite young. This would be his life for another forty, fifty, maybe even sixty years. The thought made him tired. He ached to go back to bed, pull the blankets over his head, and disappear into the oblivion of sleep.

Instead, he made a short list of steps—things he needed to get done to get ready. _Brush your teeth. Put on clothes. Make breakfast._ The same day he had yesterday. The same day he'd have tomorrow. No changes.

 _ **~0~**_

When he got home from work, there was a figure on his stoop. Carlisle pressed on the brake before he drove into the drive, startled.

It wasn't that he'd never seen someone on his stoop. He'd just never seen someone like this before. Carlisle was almost sure he was homeless. In the last six months, he'd been especially aware of the homeless. The person on his stoop was sitting slumped against the wall, knees drawn up, head tucked down, arms around his legs, and hoodie up. It was the classic pose of a homeless man seeking respite. Not an uncommon sight in the industrial and commercial areas, but in his neighborhood, in front of his door, it was a surreal sight.

Carlisle's heart skipped a beat. There was the surreality of it and then there was the moment of profound hope. For just a second, he thought the last six months really had been a nightmare. One prolonged dream, and he'd come out of it when he awoke this morning. For one second, he allowed himself to hope that his son had come home at last.

A honking horn startled both Carlisle and the figure on the stoop. They jumped, and Carlisle took his foot off the brake, sliding into his driveway and out of the way of the other motorist. The figure got to his feet in a jerky motion, hands clutching the straps of a backpack. Carlisle's initial assessment was reaffirmed; the man was homeless. His face and clothes were dirty. His posture was stooped. He looked horribly uncomfortable and guilty as he glanced furtively in Carlisle's direction.

Carlisle's heart began to pound in earnest. He was wary as he got out of the car. Wary, but also…

Well, excited wasn't the word. This man, after all, couldn't possibly bring back his child. He'd buried his boy six months ago; that couldn't be undone. On the other hand, this had to be something relating to his son. The way the man was looking at him, Carlisle knew it was no accident that he'd come to be on his stoop. What other business would a homeless man have with Carlisle if it wasn't about Jasper?

He took a few cautious steps towards the man but stopped still out of arm's reach. "Hello."

The first thing Carlisle really noticed about the man's features was his eyes. They darted to him, looking him straight on for a moment before the man ducked his head again. It was long enough for Carlisle to see the green—an intense, beautiful green.

"Hey." The man shifted on his feet, staring at Carlisle for an awkward beat.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Carlisle prompted.

"Oh." The man looked startled, as though he'd just realized Carlisle couldn't possibly know what he was there for. He shifted again, looking like he wanted to run away. "Yeah. Sorry. I mean, no. You can't help me. I mean…" He huffed and readjusted his backpack. "Are you Carlisle Cullen?"

"Yes." It was all Carlisle could do to keep his tone steady. He wanted to shake the man. This must _have_ something to do with Jasper, and he needed the man to spit it out. But it was easy to see how skittish he was. Carlisle wouldn't have been surprised if he bolted away like a startled cat. "Do I know you?" he asked, even though he knew he didn't.

"No, umm. No. I…" He huffed, took a deep breath, and raised his head to look at Carlisle with piercing, sad eyes. "I knew your son."

All the breath left Carlisle's body. Even though he'd been expecting it, he was still stunned. He took a step forward but stopped again, trying to make his brain restart.

"Look, this is weird. I'm sorry." The man shifted his backpack, and his eyes darted around, as though looking for an escape route. "I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. I'm sorry. I'll go."

"No." Carlisle took another step toward the man, his hand out. "Please, don't leave." He gestured at the door. "Will you come inside? We can talk."

The man looked at him again, his eyes gone wide. He looked to the house and back to Carlisle. "You want me in your house?"

Carlisle furrowed a brow. "Of course. If that's comfortable for you. I want to hear anything you have to say about Jasper."

"Okay." The man seemed to steel himself, and he nodded, making a small effort to stand up straighter. "Yeah, okay. I can do that. For Jasper." He peered at Carlisle. "You're sure?"

Carlisle's heart hurt. This man couldn't conceive Carlisle would want a person like him in his home. Had Jasper been like that? "I'm very sure. Please, come in."

He stepped carefully past the man, turned the key in the lock, and held the door open. The man hesitated, seeming self-conscious, but stepped past Carlisle at a quick pace. Of course, Carlisle couldn't miss the strong, musky odor of sweat and dirt that wafted by his nose. He thought that might be what the man was self-conscious of, but he couldn't say that it bothered him. Nor did it bother him to invite the man with his dirty skin and clothes to sit on his furniture. None of that was important. After all, his little boy had looked and smelled like this once. He wanted to believe there were people out there who were more concerned with the human behind the dirt and stink, and hoped those people had treated his son with dignity and respect.

"Come in the kitchen. Can I get you coffee or water?" Carlisle asked, gesturing for the man to follow him into the house.

"You don't have to get me anything."

"I always have a coffee when I come home. Hot coffee with hazelnut creamer." This was true. An indulgence. The coffee made his insides feel warm, if only for a few minutes.

"If it's not a big deal, I'll have some."

"It's not." Carlisle went to the coffee maker. "You didn't mention your name."

"It's not important."

Carlisle wanted to argue that point, but he heard the defensiveness in the man's voice. Paranoia, he thought. He'd done a considerable amount of research about the homeless the last few months, and he knew well enough paranoia was a common response. He didn't push the point. "Okay. So you said you knew my son?"

"Yeah. You know, maybe you shouldn't give me coffee. I don't think you'll want to after this."

Carlisle turned around and leaned up against the counter. His heart had begun to pound erratically in his chest again. "I sincerely doubt that, but why don't you tell me what you have to say?"

The man rubbed the back of his head, keeping his hoodie on. "It was my fault."

"H-how?" Carlisle asked, his throat tight. He was trying his best to keep calm. Not because he was angry. He sensed, somehow, that this man's guilt was likely misplaced. He just wanted answers, and the man was only giving him more questions. "It was a fight. They don't know…" Carlisle stumbled to the side, away from the man. His gut twisted with a horrible thought.. "You're not telling me it was you."

"No!" The man's eyes were wide as he looked at Carlisle. He shook his head vehemently. "No. No, it wasn't me. That's not what I meant. I would never…" He gulped, obviously upset. "Jasper was the only friend I've had in three years. I would never want to hurt him."

"Okay," Carlisle said, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "I believe you. I'm sorry. Please go on. I'm listening."

The man crossed his arms over his chest. "It's just that it should have been me." He rocked a bit as he spoke. "They were after me. The guys."

"Do you know who they are?" Carlisle couldn't help but ask. His son's death was unsolved.

The man shook his head, not looking at him. "I didn't see them. It was dark, and I wasn't looking at them." He tightened his arms around himself. "There were two of them, and they were trying…" He shook his head hard, looking down. "Anyway. Jasper saw them. He got them off me, but he didn't…" The man swallowed hard. "He didn't see they had knives."

Carlisle turned away from the man then, his eyes burning as despair washed over him. He couldn't stand the fact that his baby boy, barely eighteen, had died so violently and alone—bleeding to death in a dry riverbed. Jasper's body, when Carlisle had seen it, was covered in wounds. He'd imagined the scene a million times. Knowing this man had watched it happen was almost too much for him to bear.

The sound of something being placed on the table drew Carlisle's attention. He turned his head to see the man had set a knife on the table. A familiar knife. One Carlisle's own father had given him shortly before his entire life had gone to hell.

"Jasper didn't have his knife," the man said, his voice thin and pained. "He always tried to help me. He said he thought maybe I should hold on to it, because someone had told him there might be trouble." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry. I don't know if it helps to know that he died saving me. But I wanted you to know, and I wanted to bring this back to you."

Carlisle didn't move or speak at first. It was all he could do to remember to breathe. He had so many questions, but he didn't think he could make any of them come out right. He wanted to rail at the man. Had he not helped Jasper? Why hadn't he gone to the police?

Slowly, he came unfrozen. Because it was a mindless task he could complete easily, Carlisle went to his cabinet and took out two cups. He poured coffee and set one cup in front of the man and the other at the empty space across from him at the table. He got sugar from the pantry and creamer from the refrigerator. He set those in the middle of the table and got two stirring spoons. Finally, he sat down, cradling the hot cup in his hands.

"You were gone when the police came?" Carlisle tried his hardest not to put any accusation into the words.

The man hadn't touched his coffee. He was staring down at his lap, shame and guilt obvious in every line of his body. "The men…" He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. "I hit my head when they were...doing what they were doing. I didn't pass out, but it made me all spacey. I saw everything." His voice quaked with those words and he shuddered. "But it was all far away. Like I was in a dream. I wasn't thinking—not really. I saw the ambulance get there, and I think I thought I would be in the way. You know, like I didn't want them to care about me? I wanted them to help Jasper. So I got to my feet, and I got out of there. It was a long time before I could think straight—really figure out what happened. A couple of days."

"You had a concussion," Carlisle said by rote. He was a nurse, not a doctor, but it was an easy enough diagnosis. "You should get a scan if you haven't already."

The man looked up, a tiny smile on his lips. "You're like him, or I guess, he was like you." His expression turned more tortured. "How could you possibly care about my head when I got your son killed?" He shook his head and got to his feet. "I should go."

"No," Carlisle said, getting up as well. "You haven't had your coffee."

The man was already shouldering his tattered pack again. "I'm sorry to be wasteful, but I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't be here drinking your coffee." He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Desperation twisted in Carlisle's gut. He darted after the man and reached out, grabbing his arm. It was a mistake. The man recoiled hard. He spun and backed up, hitting Carlisle's wall with a loud smack. His eyes were wide, and when he saw Carlisle so close, he cowered. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just trying to leave."

Carlisle took a step back and spread his hands wide. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

"Please just let me leave," the man said, his voice gone high-pitched and scared.

Carlisle's heart broke. Whatever else had happened, this man had obviously been through all kinds of hell. As much as he wanted, needed, answers about his son, he had to be respectful of the fact this man was traumatized. He forced himself to take another step back so the door was easily accessible. "I'm not going to stop you. I just…" He swallowed down the painful lump in his throat. "I never knew where he was. My son. I'd have done anything to help him. I'd… If you would stay and tell me about him. Anything."

The man glanced up at him from under long lashes, his eyes uncertain. "Why aren't you angry at me?"

"For what?"

"For not being able to fight them myself? For not being able to help him when he was fighting my battles for me?" He shifted his weight. "For not being the one to die instead of him."

Carlisle pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He should have been able to say that he wasn't angry at the man for not dying when his son had, but it wasn't true. As horrible as it made him feel, he was a father. How could he help but wish it was someone else's son and not his who'd died?

He let out a slow breath. "Why do you not hate me?"

The man looked confused. "Hate you? For what?"

"You were Jasper's friend. You're here, so he must have told you something about me. At least enough that you knew where to come. He ran away when he wasn't even sixteen. At that age, he preferred homelessness and the streets to coming home to his father." His voice cracked. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. "He must have hated me, and he must have told you why."

"He didn't hate you," the man said softly. "We fought about that. I never understood how he could stay away when he was so young, and he had a father who loved him so much. My father..." He shook his head. "That doesn't matter. The thing about Jasper was, I think he didn't know how to come home."

They were both silent for a few uncomfortable seconds as Carlisle tried to process that. The man bent his shoulders inward, making a move for the door. "I really should go."

"Will you come back?" Carlisle blurted. "Or is there somewhere I can meet you? I can buy you lunch or dinner. Or alcohol, if that's what you want."

The man looked up, and for the first time in their interaction, life and fire sparked in his eyes. "I don't drink," he said, his tone angry. "Not all of us are alcoholics, you know."

"I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say," Carlisle said. "There's just no one else I can talk to about my son."

The man grimaced and looked away for a moment. "I can come back," he said, sounding uncertain. "I can come back here tomorrow and tell you about him."

"I can make you dinner, if you'd like."

"No." The man shook his head vehemently. "I can feed myself, and I don't want anything from you."

"But you'll come back?"

"Yeah," the man said slowly. "Yeah, Jasper would have wanted that, I think. I can do that for him."

It was one of the hardest things Carlisle had ever had to do to watch the nameless man leave his house. He didn't have a name, didn't know where the man was going. There was every possibility he wouldn't show up tomorrow, that he would disappear, taking all his memories of Jasper with him.

All he could do was trust the man would keep his word.

* * *

 **A/N: Much heart.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Phew. Thanks for being patient. Here we go!**

* * *

This was a horrible idea.

Edward was conflicted about this whole thing. Jasper's father had to have been one of the saddest people Edward had ever met, and it was his fault. What right did he have to disturb whatever little bit of peace he had?

But he'd done what he did. It was selfish; a way to alleviate his own guilt, and that hadn't worked anyway. Now, he'd promised the man he'd come back and tell him stories about his dead son. Edward had spent most of the day worried about how it would all go. Carlisle was so _nice,_ he'd probably try to feed Edward again.

That was the one thing Edward _could_ do. He could eat well. Orange County didn't want to build a permanent shelter for the homeless, but they had many food banks. The food banks' primary sources of product were the plethora of fancy food stores. The result was a lot of high-end choices mixed in with the typical macaroni, Campbell's Soup, and canned veggies fare.

Edward took care to get to his favorite food bank an hour ahead of it opening so he was sure to be first in line. That would ensure he had first pick. The bank was set up like a small store. He checked in and was given a green ticket, meaning he could select up to seven items from the shelves-seven items a visit, up to three times a month. In addition to those items, on any given day, some of the bank's refrigerators would have numbers on them. The number represented how many items from each fridge he could take.

Typically, Edward only glanced at the fridges. Seeing as he had no fridge of his own, the eggs, cheese, milk, and other perishables were useless to him. Every once in awhile, one of the fridges had some of those ready-made, fancy-ass sandwiches or a pre-packaged quinoa bowl. Other than that, Edward didn't have a use for them.

Today, Edward went to the fridges first. There were three, he noted with satisfaction. Better than that, the one he knew held entrees-meat, fish, chicken, and the like-had a number three hanging on it today, which meant he could take three items from that fridge alone.

Good, that gave him options. Edward let out a cry of delight when he saw the fridge was well and truly stocked. No wonder he could take three items. "Whoa," he muttered under his breath.

One of the volunteers milling around, waiting to help smiled at him. "That's some of the stuff I pass in the store and I wish I could get," she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Edward offered her a small smile of sympathy. The volunteers were usually university and high school students there for credit for their social services classes. Besides, she was right. A lot of the meat choices were high end.

After some consideration, Edward opted for herb-marinated chicken, salmon steaks, and an honest to god full rack of ribs. He put his items in the basket and doubled back for his shelved items.

This was so presumptuous of Edward. There was no way he should have done this without asking Carlisle if it was okay. But his father had raised him with the idea it was polite to bring something when you went to another person's house. This was all Edward had. He could make Jasper's father a nice meal.

Using his kitchen. His appliances. His pots and pans.

Edward grimaced, second guessing his plan.

 _Better than showing up with nothing_ , the voice in his head reminded him. He could offer at least.

Shaking off his doubt as best he could, Edward went back to shopping. He picked out a package of farfalle pasta, tomato paste, olives, bbq sauce-in case Carlisle opted for ribs-canned corn, minced garlic, and a package of gingersnap cookies for dessert.

The counter was full of fresh veggies, of which he could take as many as he could use, the volunteer said. Edward chose an onion and a few bell peppers.

Then were the last two fridges. Edward scored some heavy cream-he'd expected to find it, hence why he'd opted for pasta as a side dish-a package of mushrooms, a small block of mozzarella cheese, and a large bottle of iced coffee.

Once outside again, Edward spent the next fifteen minutes carefully arranging the contents of his backpack so he could carry as much of the food in there. It was one thirty. Carlisle had showed up home a little after five. Plenty of time to get there on foot.

Some hours later, Edward was again sitting on Carlisle Cullen's front stoop when the man drove up. This time, Carlisle got out of the car almost before he'd turned the engine all the way off. He looked relieved, and that made Edward feel a little better.

"I was afraid I was never going to see you again," Carlisle said.

Edward ducked his head. The man seemed almost happy to see him. He shrugged his shoulders, readjusting his pack on his back. "I said I would."

"I know." The man moved past him and put his key in the lock. "Come in. Have you eaten? I was going to order a pizza tonight. You know there's no such thing as a personal pizza. Even the small is way too big for me to eat myself, so you'd actually be helping me if you helped me eat it."

"Um. Actually…" Edward's heart began to pound. It was unreasonable that he should feel so nervous, but he didn't want to piss this guy off in his own home. "Look, I don't know if this is going to come off as rude, but I picked up some fresh groceries at the food bank earlier. I was wondering if I could make you dinner."

Carlisle turned to stare at him. "What?"

"I would wash up, of course." He grimaced. He would use more of Carlisle's resources. "I mean. If it's not a big deal. If it is, then don't worry. You can order your pizza, and I won't touch it."

"No. No, it's a kind thing to offer." His eyes went to the grocery bag Edward had set on the floor and then his backpack.

Edward grimaced. His backpack was filthy. Just as filthy as he was if not more. Who would want to eat anything out of that? "The stuff in my bag is wrapped up in plastic bags. It hasn't gotten near anything dirty, I swear." He huffed. "This is stupid. I'm sorry. It was a dumb idea."

Carlisle stepped carefully toward him and put a hand briefly to his arm. "It's not a dumb idea at all. It's very kind." He tilted his head toward the kitchen. "Come on. Let's see what you have."

As Edward followed Carlisle, he started to babble about the different selection he had. "I didn't know what you'd like." He wrinkled his nose as he took the bags out of his backpack, unrolling them. "Maybe the salmon steaks were a bad idea. I insulated them as best I could. The coffee and the cream were really cold. I kind of packed them all together, but I've been outside for a while."

"Salmon steak?" Carlisle's eyes bulged. "How does this work? Tell me you didn't spend your limited resources on anything fancy."

"Ah...no. Not really." Edward was about to reach into the bags to get the meat out and stopped, staring at his hands. Christ, they were almost black. "Can you put those in the fridge or the freezer until we decide what to do?" He shrunk back. Was he really ordering this guy around his own kitchen? What was wrong with him? "I mean...that was rude. I... didn't…" He shook his head, trying to bite back his nerves. "I can do it. Just…" He raised his hands helplessly.

It was all a stupid idea. No one wanted a dirty man in their home. Carlisle said he did, but that was only because he was desperate to hear about Jasper. He couldn't want Edward soiling his kitchen, touching his pots and pans.

"It's sensible," Carlisle said, moving to start unpacking the bags. "Go ahead and wash up. I can do this part."

"Look, you seem like a polite guy." Edward swallowed hard. "If I make you something, you'd probably eat it even if you were grossed out."

The man looked him right in the eyes and smiled. "I'm not disgusted by you. As for cleanliness, that's exactly what washing up is for. The soap will take care of the dirt on your hands, and the food will never be in danger."

Edward studied him. "Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

"Positive."

Still uncertain, Edward turned to the sink. He frowned and began to roll up his filthy sleeves. Oh, well. He'd just have to be very scrupulous about not touching his clothing as he cooked.

As he went about the methodical business of cleaning his hands and arms, he told Carlisle how the food banks worked. It hadn't cost him anything extra-neither money nor resources-to get anything he'd brought. When Carlisle expressed concern over him using so much of his resources on one meal, Edward explained that he typically couldn't take advantage of a lot of what the food bank had.

"Even the canned stuff can be tricky. I have a can opener and a little pot, but dishes are harder. Finding fire with a surface is hard." He shrugged. "And really, I can't carry so much canned stuff around. I never get my max amount. I get a jar of peanut butter-that lasts a bit, and it's filling. Dry cereal." He turned around, using a paper towel to dry his finally-clean hands. "But it's not a big deal. It's like I said-that's one thing I don't worry about. No one goes hungry in Orange County."

"There's that, at least," Carlisle said, and Edward thought he looked sad.

They examined their choices, debating the merits of each. Carlisle said he was a carnivore. Meat didn't bother him, but a good piece of fish was great too. Still, the fish had started out this journey iffy. The meat and produce the banks got weren't usually the freshest-they were what was about to go bad in the next day or two. Some hours in Edward's pack hadn't done it any favors.

"It wasn't a good idea. I wasn't thinking." Edward frowned. "The chicken and ribs were frozen. The fish didn't look frozen."

Carlisle touched his shoulder again briefly. "It's okay. Food goes bad sometimes. That's the way it goes."

They decided on chicken-both of them agreed ribs were best when they could be slow baked or grilled. Edward set to work, insisting that Carlisle need do nothing but watch.

It was surprisingly easy to fall into old habits. Once he'd figured out where everything was, Edward moved around the kitchen with more confidence than he'd felt in a long time. He was a good cook. "My parents worked. I got bored with the simple stuff, so I started reading the cookbooks my mother collected but never looked at. I was a fan of Pinterest before…"

"Before what?" Carlisle prompted.

Edward pushed the finely cut onion and garlic into the pan on the stove. For a few seconds, he didn't answer but listened to the sizzle of olive oil. "Before my dad stopped paying for my phone and my Internet." He checked the pasta to see if it had cooked yet. "And my college. And my...everything."

Long, quiet seconds passed before Carlisle spoke. "Your parents kicked you out?"

"Yeah." Edward opened the tomato paste. "I went home for winter break, and went out with a few friends." He paused, asking himself why the hell he was saying any of this out loud. He knew what could happen.

But then, what did he have left to lose? He took a steadying breath and lifted the lid of yet another pan, checking on the chicken. "My parents didn't know I'd discovered a few things about myself at college." He swallowed. "They didn't know I'd figured out I was gay until I, uh… Got arrested for having sex in the backseat of my car in a parking lot."

"Oh," Carlisle said quietly.

Edward faced studiously away, concentrating on dinner lest his hands begin to shake. "I'd understand if you didn't want me in your house. My father didn't."

"That would be hypocritical." There was a pause. "When I figured out I was gay, my reaction was to be as masculine as possible." Another beat. "That's how I ended up with Jasper. I turned sixteen a week after he was born."

Edward clenched his hands in fists at his side. They were shaking too badly now for him to try and cook. Jasper's father was gay? He wasn't sure how he felt about that, and he was more than a little confused as to what the man meant. Was Carlisle saying he'd had a child because he was gay?

"How did you meet my son?" Carlisle asked, his voice still soft.

Edward released the breath he'd been holding. He started moving again. "I think it took about six months for me to realize my parents really and truly weren't going to help me. They didn't answer when I called. They wouldn't let me in when I knocked. They called the police when I refused to leave…" His voice got too tight, and he shook his head, casting those memories off. "Anyway, after that, I got a little desperate. I, um…" He strained the pasta and rinsed it. Why, oh, why was he saying any of this?

Because he'd gotten Jasper killed, and it had started when he met the man...the kid...almost a year ago now.

"There are...ways to make money," he said. "When you're young and…" He poured the pasta into the pot with the onions and garlic. "When you're young and pretty. There are ways you can make money."

"Oh," Carlisle said again.

"I didn't," Edward said, writhing with shame. "I mean… It was winter. And it was raining. It rained for four nights. I'd been wet and cold for four nights, and I didn't think I could take it anymore. I didn't think I could spend one more night outside. I wanted a bed. I wanted…"

Edward stirred the cream into the pasta. "I thought I could do it. Enough money for a warm bed for one night. Just one night. I...Well, long story short, I changed my mind." He swallowed several times. "The, uh… The John? I don't know. Anyway, he didn't react too well, but, uh… Jasper-he heard us. He heard me."

Stirring the pasta, he laughed. "He was, what? Seventeen at that point? And I was twenty. Almost twenty-one. I didn't know a damn thing about taking care of myself. Not like that, but he was a rock."

When he turned around, he was surprised to find Carlisle leaning over the table, his face covered with his hands. "I...I'm sorry."

Carlisle shook his head and lowered his hands. He didn't look at Edward. "You're right. He was a rock. He was my father's son more than I ever was. I never had the patience for any of that. Martial arts and Boy Scouts. If you asked my father, Jasper was the only thing I ever did right." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "I told him we were leaving. Leaving this house. I told him I'd been under my father's thumb long enough, and we were going somewhere else together. Him and me." He looked down at the table. "That was when he ran away."

Edward served two plates and went to the table. He set one in front of Carlisle and sat across from him. He poured the ice coffee. "He talked about you. Not often, but when I told him some of the things my father said to me, he talked about you. He said he wasn't gay, but if he had been, you'd have accepted him." He paused. "He didn't know about you?"

Carlisle raised his eyes.

"Sorry." Edward ducked his head. "Sorry, that's none of my business."

"He didn't know."

Edward tilted his head. "He wouldn't have cared, you know."

Carlisle scoffed, but he smiled. "He was my father's son," he said quietly. "I disappointed both of them."

Edward raised his glass of coffee and clinked it lightly against Carlisle's. "I guess you're in good company then."

They ate and talked about Jasper. Carlisle was surprisingly easy to talk to. In fact, at some point, Edward stopped thinking of him as Jasper's father and started thinking of him as himself.

At the end of the meal, Carlisle groaned and sat back. "I can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal." Then, to Edward's surprise, he laughed. "You want to know something strange?"

"What?" Edward asked.

Carlisle met his eyes, and his smile was more genuine than it had been all evening. "I don't even know your name."

"Oh." Edward ducked his head, but when he looked up again, Carlisle was still looking at him.

That was rare. It was rare anyone looked at him like he was a real person. He wiped his hand on his napkin and then extended it across the table. "I'm Edward. Edward Masen."

Edward was over-conscious of how dirty he still was. His face, his clothes. He knew what he looked like, what he smelled like. Yet this man had welcomed him into his home and treated him like a normal human being. Still, it was a surprise when he reached out and took Edward's hand. "I'm Carlisle Cullen."

* * *

 **A/N: How are we doing, kiddos?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Haven't quite hit my stride with this one. Thanks for your patience.**

* * *

The third day, Carlisle didn't work. He invited Edward to come over, ostensibly to talk more about Jasper. And, of course Carlisle was desperate to hear more about his son, but it wasn't the only reason he wanted Edward to come over earlier.

"Why don't you let me make breakfast?" Carlisle suggested, keeping his tone light. "I'm good at French toast, and I have some bacon."

Edward furrowed his brow, his bright green eyes standing out against his dirty face. "I'm not going to watch you work for me."

"It's not work. I like cooking, but it's never any fun to cook for one." He hesitated a beat, not wanting this to come out wrong. "You could take a shower if you wanted. Then you wouldn't have to watch me anyway."

"Oh." Edward ducked his head, and Carlisle hated how ashamed he looked with his shoulders slumped. "Finally got sick of the stink, huh?"

"I work in a hospital," Carlisle said, having already figured that would be Edward's response. "Believe me when I say, you smell like a spring breeze compared to some of the things I come in contact with on a daily basis. It's just a good start to any morning."

He could see Edward was about to argue, so he hurried on. "It's not a bother. It's not an expense. It's not putting me out at all, Edward." He paused a beat, knowing he was already pushing his luck. "And if you want, you can do a load of laundry. I put a pair of my old jeans and a shirt out for you. I haven't worn them in years. I probably should have cleaned out my closet ages ago, so—"

"Okay," Edward said. He looked as flustered as Carlisle felt. "Christ, I feel like a dick saying no at this point."

Carlisle pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh but failing miserably at the end. To his relief, Edward cracked a smile too. He ducked his head again, this time looking shy. "I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass," Edward said. "You shouldn't have to take care of me."

"Taking care of someone and extending a courtesy are two different things. A shower isn't a problem. There are even two of them in the house if you're uncomfortable about using mine. I really do like cooking." Carlisle offered him a small smile. "Besides, you're giving me back some of my son's life by telling me about him."

Edward looked exasperated. "But I'm the reason you don't have him."

"You didn't kill him." Now it was Carlisle who ducked his head. He laughed wryly. "Anyway, I don't think Jasper was ever mine."

Edward regarded him and sighed. "I think that's a discussion we should have over coffee."

Carlisle nodded. "Let me show you where everything is."

A few minutes later, Edward was in the shower and Carlisle at the counter, assembling what he needed. An old ache came over him then, and he missed his son so terribly it stole his breath.

If the world was as it was meant to be, Carlisle's mother wouldn't have died, and Jasper would have been his brother instead of his son. That was how it felt most of the time—like he was still a boy under his father's thumb. Everything went as his father wanted from the time they woke up to the time they went to sleep.

Because of that, most days, breakfast was a hearty bowl of oatmeal with raisins and milk to drink. It wasn't a bad breakfast, but a little variation would have been nice. So, when the good reverend was out of town and Carlisle was actually in charge of his own son, they ate anything but oatmeal for breakfast.

Today, in his head, a seven-year-old Jasper sat on the stool, his arms on the counter, watching his father with bright blue eyes and a wide, eager smile. _"But Daaa-ad. Waffles are better because you can put strawberries in the boxes."_

Carlisle breathed in through his nose and out again, trying to keep a hold on his agony. Not today. He didn't want to spiral today. He thought about how Edward would probably blame himself for Carlisle's mental state and that, for some reason, calmed him down. He concentrated on getting everything ready.

Some time later, the house smelled like bread, butter, and a hint of cinnamon. He heard footsteps behind him and, when he turned to look, his breath caught.

Apparently, once Edward figured out it was okay to take Carlisle up on his offer of hospitality, he went all out. Carlisle had purposefully left a fresh razor on the counter. The clean-shaven young man who had appeared in his kitchen was a vision. His skin was sun kissed, his cheeks ruddy and raw from being outside too long. Still, it did nothing to mask his fine features. He was beautiful. Not classically handsome—simply beautiful. Feeling his cheeks warm, Carlisle turned back to the stove.

"I'm about done." He cleared his throat. "Will you pour the coffee?"

Edward's glance was furtive when Carlisle sat down across from him at the small kitchen table a moment later. No wonder. This whole scene was strangely domestic. Saturday morning breakfast in a quiet house with an attractive man.

Carlisle rolled his shoulders, shaking that thought off. Edward, he noted, was staring at his plate. "Is something wrong?"

Edward looked up, cracking a smile. "I was just thinking about the powdered sugar."

Carlisle furrowed his brow, confused. Edward picked up his fork and knife and began to cut his French toast into careful pieces. "You can get a legitimate meal sometimes in some places. You know—a table and all that. But it's always mass produced foods. A lot of spaghetti for dinner. Pancakes and runny eggs for breakfast." His eyes went wide. "Not that I'm complaining. It's a nice thing for them to take the time to do. It's nice to have a warm meal."

"You don't have to explain. I understand what you meant. It's like the school cafeteria. It's all edible. Some of it is even good."

Edward nodded. "But it's not this. It's not...fluffy and perfectly crispy at the same time." He sighed, staring at the bread with loving eyes that made Carlisle simultaneously heartsick and amused. "The powdered sugar. It just looks so good."

"Hmm. Hopefully, it tastes good, too," Carlisle said, gently urging him to eat rather than stare at his food.

Edward dragged his bite of French toast through the puddle of syrup he'd poured. He shook his head. "I just never thought about taking powdered sugar for granted. Other things—my car, my laptop, video games. I always made sure to appreciate what I had, but powdered sugar? I guess I took that for granted." He put the bite in his mouth and closed his eyes as his lips wrapped around the fork. He moaned.

Carlisle shifted in his seat and stared down at his own plate. _Get a hold of yourself,_ he admonished inwardly. His libido had a mind of its own at the most inconvenient times. Though, if he was being honest, it always seemed to be an inconvenient time, and there was something wrong with that, too.

"You know, Jasper didn't hate you."

Carlisle raised his head, looking across the table at Edward. The man was watching him, his eyes, as ever, cautious. "Hate might be a strong word."

"No. He…" Edward pursed his lips, considering. "I don't think I ever understood this part. Because he wanted to come home. Whenever he talked about you, I know he wanted to come home. But he kept saying that he'd failed you, or something like that."

"Oh." Carlisle put his fork down and rubbed at his forehead. "It's the other way around, actually, but I never could get him to see that." He breathed in and out—a difficult task as his chest had tightened. "I told you he was strong. Well, you saw that for yourself. And I wasn't, especially when it came to my father. I've never been the son my father wanted me to be." He swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists. "And until the day he died, he took his frustration out on me. Frequently."

"That's terrible."

Carlisle picked up his fork, though this time he only moved his food around. "Jasper lived his life torn, I think. He loved me and wanted to protect me. But he loved his grandfather like a father too. I think when I said we were going away—far away where my father couldn't touch us—he just couldn't figure out what to do. I was his father, and I know he loved me. But he loved his grandfather too."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Carlisle squeezed his fork as though it was a stress doll. He didn't know what to say. He'd never voiced the words out loud to anyone, and the shame of it choked him now. He'd brought his son into a broken and violent home. Of course it was his fault it hadn't ended well.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle said. "I think I'm ruining breakfast."

Edward set down his fork and looked across the table at him. "It's not like we're here on a date or for fun. I came here to talk about Jasper, and that can't be easy. It's not easy for me. I miss him too, though obviously not the same way you do. You think Jasper dying is your fault, and I think it's my fault." He shrugged. "We're both right, and we're both wrong."

"What does that mean?" Carlisle asked, honestly curious.

Edward shifted in his seat, hunching in on himself. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and rocked a bit as he spoke. "It's not like it all happened in a vacuum." Another shrug. He was nervous, Carlisle realized. Skittish about sharing his opinions. "The homophobia thing is a social construct. So is toxic masculinity, which it sounds like maybe what your father endorsed. If that wasn't a thing, then he probably wouldn't have treated you the way he did. Then maybe you wouldn't have felt the need to prove yourself."

"And Jasper wouldn't have been born?" Carlisle's voice came out clipped. He would never regret his son, even if the time he'd gotten with him was too little.

Edward ducked his head. "Or, your father wouldn't have hurt you, and it wouldn't have created such a conflict in Jasper." His voice shook a little. "And my parents wouldn't have disowned me."

"And the world would have a better solution for people in your situation to get back on their feet. I've always thought it was incredible. There's enough food in the world for no one to go hungry. There are enough homes for everyone to have shelter. Yet there are people who go hungry and people on the streets." Carlisle shook his head. "It's maddening."

"Yeah." Edward wrinkled his nose and picked up his fork again. "Anyway. I guess it goes without saying that we both wish things were different. But the old cliche is true too. I don't think Jasper would want either of us to live our lives guilty if we could help it."

They talked of lighter things after that. Well, as light as things could get. Edward told Carlisle stories about how clever Jasper was, how good he was at surviving on the streets. Carlisle told Edward stories of Jasper as a little boy—his mischievous and intuitive nature.

Carlisle hadn't known how much he needed to talk to someone else who knew Jasper. Just to share stories of the boy he'd been so proud of, stories another person could really appreciate, soothed an ache in his heart. His son had been an incredible creature. His father hadn't believed in that kind of reminiscing. It was far too emotional and therefore to be discouraged.

They talked. Carlisle brewed a fresh cup of coffee, and they moved to the living room. They were so involved in conversation that when a clap of thunder sounded out hours later, they both jumped.

To Carlisle's surprise, Edward stood up and bolted across the room to the window. "Oh, no."

Outside, the day had turned overcast and rain poured down. It was raining so hard, Carlisle was shocked he hadn't heard it before then. He stood too and looked out.

"What time is it?" Edward asked, swinging around to look at him.

"Erm." Carlisle fished his phone out of his pocket and looked. His eyes went wide. "It's almost three." He hadn't realized so much time had passed.

"Fuck." Edward grabbed a fistful of his hair. "It was clear when I got here this morning."

"You said you usually stay out by the riverbed."

"Yeah." Edward shuffled his feet, looking out the window with a look of dread that broke Carlisle's heart for the millionth time. "It'll be okay, though. It's Southern California. It'll just be muddy and cold." He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself. "I can deal with muddy and cold. But I should get out of here. Trees are hard to come by, and it's going to take me awhile to get back there."

Carlisle's gut twisted. He couldn't stand the idea of sending Edward out into the cold and the rain. He acted on impulse. "Edward, would you consider staying?"

Edward stopped short. He turned to stare at Carlisle. "What?"

"You can stay."

"I need to go. Like I said, it's going to take me awhile to get across town—"

"I meant stay tonight."

Edward's eyes went wide, and Carlisle hurried on before he lost his nerve. "I have the room, and it's no trouble."

"But… That's… I mean, I'm a stranger."

Carlisle's lip twitched in spite of himself. "You're not a stranger. Maybe we don't know each other that well, but I trust you." He took a step forward. "Honestly, Edward, I wouldn't be able to sleep imagining you out in this."

He'd never been able to sleep on rainy nights after Jasper left for exactly that reason. Anyway, he hadn't slept well the last few nights either, imagining Edward outside while Carlisle slept in a warm bed. It wasn't right.

Edward looked out the window and back again. "Maybe it'll let up," he hedged.

"Even if it does, you can stay tonight. Inside for once. In a bed. With no expectations."

Edward chafed his shoulders as though he were imagining being outside as the cold seeped into him bone deep. "Okay," he whispered. He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "Maybe I could cook dinner." He frowned. "I mean, if we go to the market, I can get some groceries. I still have some of my food stamps money on my EBT. I can make us something."

"That would be good," Carlisle said slowly, knowing how Edward felt about taking advantage of him. "We can do that. So you'll stay?"

Edward looked at him, his eyes full of some emotion Carlisle couldn't name. "I would like that. If it's… I mean, it would be really, really great."

Carlisle nodded, relieved. "Great. Good. Then let's go the market."

He didn't say so out loud, but to himself, Carlisle admitted he was relieved for another reason. It would be nice not to be alone in the house for the first time in a long time.

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to you. Many thanks to Betsy, Eleanor, Mina, Packeh, MoH, and Julie for their help.**

 **Happy New Year to all of you. Thank you for your support. I hope, despite everything, this proves to be a good year.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry this is such a shorty update when you've been waiting a while. Better next time.**

* * *

It rained hard for three days. Each day, it was easier for Edward to let Carlisle talk him into staying. He made excuses for himself. He'd clean and cook. But when the sky turned a bright, cloudless blue on the fourth day, he had to admit he was out of excuses. He had no more Jasper stories to tell. Carlisle's house was immaculate, and the man could cook for himself.

That morning, Edward closed his eyes, enjoying the shower one last time. It was a good shower. Good water pressure, unlike the ones he used now and again in the temporary shelters. He took his time, bathing with sweet smelling soap and Carlisle's conditioner that made his hair soft. It'd be dirty and matted again soon enough.

His heart twisted, and a well of emotion nearly overwhelmed him. His eyes stung. He was just so _clean._ All of him. All his clothes. He'd even had time to scrub his backpack clean. Seeing all of it get filthy again was going to break his heart. Why had he given himself this respite?

There was no use feeling sorry for himself. He tried to tell himself he wouldn't always be homeless. Now that he looked clean and presentable, maybe he could find a job. Keeping it when he had no stable way to keep his clothes clean and no idea where he'd sleep every night would be harder, but that was getting ahead of himself anyway.

When he went downstairs, backpack on his back, he found Carlisle in the kitchen. A steaming cup of coffee sat opposite him, waiting for Edward. Edward didn't sit. Instead, he stared out the window at the blue, blue sky. "It's clear today. It's going to be a long walk across town. I should go."

"You should stay," Carlisle said.

Edward swung around to stare at him. "There's no reason to stay tonight." He looked back outside. "Sun's shining. I'll bet there won't even be that much mud by the end of the day."

"I don't mean you should stay tonight." Carlisle swallowed audibly. "I think you should just stay. For however long it takes for you to get back on your feet."

Edward turned those words over in his head, sure he hadn't understood. He didn't dare look at Carlisle, but kept staring out at the wide world. "That...You don't want that."

"If I didn't want you to stay, I wouldn't ask."

"That doesn't make any sense." He shook his head. "You don't invite strangers to live with you."

"You're not a stranger."

"I could be a murderer. You've trusted me too far as it is."

Carlisle laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. Edward heard soft footsteps and felt the other man's presence beside him. He tensed out of habit, but Carlisle only stuck his arm out in front of Edward's face. He'd rolled his sleeve up, and Edward gaped at what he saw.

A long, thick scar running down the length of the vein.

He turned to stare at Carlisle with wide eyes. The other man stared back, his gaze steady and unapologetic. "You really think I have anything to lose?"

Without thinking, Edward reached out, cupping his hand under Carlisle's and covering as much as he could of the scar with his other hand. He didn't know why he thought he could touch him, but he needed to do something. Offer some comfort.

"I trust you more than I trust myself." Carlisle's voice was far too calm given the conversation. "You need a roof over your head. Four walls. A place to shower. I live alone in a house with two empty rooms." He shook his head. "This is a no brainer."

Self-conscious that he was still touching the other man, Edward let his arm go. He stared a beat at the scar, and he didn't have to ask why. Abused all his life by his father, and then his son had died homeless and alone.

Carlisle pulled his sleeves down and crossed his arms. Edward looked down at his feet, trying to think. They did get along. Edward genuinely liked talking to Carlisle, and he thought maybe the feeling was returned. Carlisle could use a friend, and Edward could use a home. This could be a good thing

That was what made it so scary.

"I… I'll never be able to repay you." Edward looked up at him from underneath his lashes, ashamed but relieved.

Carlisle smiled and put a hand to his shoulder. "I think you will be one day. But you'll never need to."

 _ **~0~**_

That first week, Edward couldn't relax. He kept expecting the other shoe to drop, or for Carlisle to get annoyed at something. He thought of all the million ways this could go to hell and what he would do if it did.

Although he thought it highly likely he was going to screw something up, other possibilities came to mind. One of them in particular nagged at him.

Carlisle made breakfast the sixth day since he wasn't working. They talked about a charity Edward knew of where he might be able to find some more presentable clothes for job hunting.

"You know, you don't have to limit yourself to fast food or retail," Carlisle said. "You have experience helping your dad at his office, you said."

Edward snorted. "Not like he's going to give me a reference."

"That's beside the point. The point is, you might be able to get a data entry job. That's a good start that usually has some more possibilities."

"I'd need more than just one set of nice clothes."

"Well, we'll see what they have at the charity, what your allowances are, and if we need to supplement—"

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle looked up from his plate of French toast.

Edward blew out a sharp breath. What he was about to do was stupid. Carlisle was going to kick his ass out.

Somehow, though, that didn't stop him. "I just...I need…" He looked down at his plate. "Your arm," he said finally. "Your wrist. I mean, is there something I should look out for?"

"Oh." Carlisle glanced down, and Edward hated the look of shame that flickered across his face. He offered a weak smile. "You mean do you have to worry you're going to walk in on...that?"

Edward ducked his head. That was exactly what he'd been worried about.

"My father found me that time," Carlisle said, his voice far away. "He was so angry. He said I deserved to live a long, long life without my son. I can't help but agree with him, so I suppose I'm in it for the long haul."

Edward didn't immediately know what to say to that. If he said his father was wrong, would that mean he'd be encouraging Carlisle to kill himself? That wasn't right either. That was some heavy stuff right there.

"He was right about a lot—my father," Carlisle continued. "It was such a cowardly thing to do. And what did I have to complain about? I had a roof over my head. Hot food in my stomach. Jasper didn't." He looked up at Edward. "You didn't."

"I was actually just wondering if it's harder to have my father or yours." Edward shook his head, and this time, it was him who reached over and gave Carlisle's shoulder a squeeze. It was an awkward gesture—when had he ever been in a position to comfort anyone—but he needed to do something. "I guess I'd never thought about it. He tossed me out on my ass, but what if he had that kind of hate for me and kept me?" He let his hand drop to his lap. "I'm glad you're here. I don't know if doing this for me is part of your, uh, punishment or whatever, but I'm glad you're here."

Carlisle blinked, looking shocked. "You're not even a chore, let alone a punishment."

"I don't think life is supposed to be a punishment, so that's good to hear."

Despite the fact Edward's heart hurt for the other man, something in him had settled. It was strange, but he supposed he found some solace in the idea they were both desperate men, each looking for their slice of peace in the world.

 _ **~0~**_

They worked out all the details. As a matter of principle, Edward made sure to use his food stamps' money only on food he ate, thus keeping with the rules of the program and making sure he wasn't putting undue stress on Carlisle to provide for both of them. He did more than his fair share of the chores, but then neither of them were particularly messy people.

Edward, in his quest to use as little of Carlisle's things as possible, took his empty backpack on a visit to three of the food banks. On top of some cans he could use to help stock the pantry, he also got the full-sized bottles of toiletries—no reason Carlisle should have to buy those things for him—soap, a razor, a small pan, a plate, and a cheesy set of silverware. He was on his way out of the last pantry when he spotted the book shelf off to one side. As usual, it was full of donated books at all reading levels and interests. He'd taken one every now and again and returned it when he was done. No sense in letting a good book get destroyed riding around in his backpack.

That day, Edward picked up a handful of books. When he got back to the house, he took them out and stared at the small, bare bookshelf that had once belonged to Jasper Cullen. Carlisle had told Edward repeatedly he was free to treat the room as his own. Edward had left the room unchanged to that point—no mark of himself at all except for the sparse clothes that hung in the closet.

Swallowing hard, Edward put his new-used books on the shelf, propping them up on one end against his new pot. He sat back and stared.

His things. In his room. In his home.

 _ **~Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs: Physiological~**_

 _At the base of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, providing the foundation, are physiological needs. Among these are being able to breathe, knowing where your food and water are coming from, knowing where you're going to sleep and go to the restroom, and a general sense of homeostasis._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Mew!**

* * *

 _ **~Safety~**_

"What do you think?" Carlisle called, tapping his foot. He wasn't impatient; Edward could take all the time he needed trying on clothes. He was just running through a list of what-ifs in his mind, thinking several steps ahead just in case.

They were at the charity that operated specifically for the purpose of helping people like Edward with good dress clothes. How could they be expected to get a job or keep a job without clean, presentable clothes? But the selection was limited to whatever had been donated. Carlisle was trying to convince Edward that he needed a suit nice enough for non-retail and fast food job interviews. Not that there was anything wrong with either of those fields, but there was also no harm in widening the window of opportunities.

There were a few nice suits that might fit, but if they didn't—and chances were they wouldn't—Carlisle was preparing arguments in his head. Edward hated accepting anything from him, so if he was going to get the man to let him buy him a suit, he'd have to be smooth about it.

"I can't tell what I think," Edward responded through the thin door between them.

"Why don't you come out? Maybe I can help."

There was a moment of quiet before the door opened, and Edward stepped out. Carlisle's breath caught in his throat.

Well, how could he help it? There was something about a man in a suit that did things to him. And Edward was an attractive man to begin with. It was a simple suit—not too fancy—but cut just right.

Carlisle cleared his throat and stepped forward. He adjusted the collar and smoothed out the shoulders. "What you're looking for here is how it hangs on you." He took Edward by the shoulders and positioned him in front of the mirror. "See how it gives you shape and definition? No bagginess. I know it's wrinkled, but you have to imagine what it'll look like pressed."

He hurried to the bag of clothes they'd already decided on and rummaged until he found one of the two ties they'd found. He brought it over and looped it around Edward's neck. "A nice suit looks best with all the trimmings."

Edward smiled as Carlisle tied his tie for him. "You think we should get a cumberbund then?"

"And a boutonniere," Carlisle teased back. He smoothed the tie down and nodded, satisfied with his work. "Now, look."

Edward turned back to the mirror. He cocked his head, and Carlisle wondered at the way he stood up straighter, his normally stooped shoulders squared. For a fraction of a heartbeat, Carlisle caught a glimpse of a different man. Maybe the man Edward was supposed to be at that point in his life—devilishly handsome and aware of his strengths. Self-assured. Ready to take on the world.

Good clothes could do that for a person. In a fit of curiosity, Carlisle had once put on a doctor's coat and looked in the mirror. It had been a good look on him, and for minutes, he could pretend he was the man he'd always wanted to be.

"See, you could walk right onto Wall Street looking like that," Carlisle said.

Edward wrinkled his nose. "Ew. Hard pass." He tugged fitfully at his shirt, twisting a bit. "But maybe an office job. Mail sorter? Data entry?" He made another face. "I could try sales…"

"You could." He patted Edward's back. "Come on. If you're ready to go, we can grab some lunch."

"You know what I'm going to do with my first paycheck?" Edward called as he headed back into the dressing room.

"What's that?"

"I'm going to treat _you_ to lunch."

"With a whole paycheck? I could do some damage with a whole paycheck."

 _ **~0~**_

They'd found another charity that gave resume advice and spruced up Edward's barren resume with his experience at his father's business along with his good grades up until the point he had to drop out. It was all carefully worded. He borrowed Carlisle's computer and researched interview tips like he was studying for a test in school.

It was interesting watching Edward change. The first two interviews didn't pan out, but that didn't seem to faze Edward. Rather, he gained confidence because the interviews went well, even if he didn't ultimately get the position.

"Just getting to practice interviewing is progress," Edward said. "It's not like I didn't try before."

"I know you did," Carlisle assured him. "It's just a matter of time now. You have this."

"I have this."

It took three weeks.

Edward was still nervous about the situation, sure that Carlisle would get sick of him and kick him out. It must have been such an awful feeling. Yes, he was off the streets. Yes, he was warm and clean and he could shower whenever he wanted. But none of it was really his. If Carlisle did kick him out tomorrow, there'd be no way he could continue his job search. He'd have nowhere to put away his nice clothes. They'd worked out a system whereby if Carlisle was working during the day, Edward would take him to work so he'd have a reliable form of transportation any time he got a call.

But, Carlisle was honest in his intentions. As far as he was concerned, as long as he had all those things, Edward was welcome to them.

At the end of the third week, Carlisle got home in the small hours of the morning to find Edward still awake. Not only awake, but with a smile so wide and brilliant it could have lit up the room.

"I got a job."

After a ten-hour shift at the hospital, Carlisle was exhausted. But the news gave him the rush of energy he'd been sorely lacking. "That's fantastic." He moved forward, hugging Edward before he thought about what he was doing.

But Edward hugged him back, his arms thrown around his neck as he laughed. "Fricken Disneyland. Can you believe it?" He stepped back, his eyes shining with happiness. He gave a shrug. "It's part-time, so no benefits. Not a lot of money."

"But it's something."

"It's something," Edward agreed. "Money coming in, and I can still keep looking for something steadier."

"Right. They say it's easier to get a job when you already have one." Carlisle shook his head.

"I've heard that before."

"So what will you be doing?" Carlisle asked, moving toward the kitchen.

Edward followed him, his tone still excited. "Something about guest research. You know, those people who stand at the exits and ask you a few questions?" His grin widened. "Actually, it was a good call putting that data entry stuff on my resume. That's what got their attention for that job because you have to be at least a little proficient with computers. Which...I mean, come on. Who isn't these days?" He shrugged. "But whatever. It worked. I have to wear a uniform, but it could be worse. It's kind of a generic one. Not a cutesy one like the ride operators have to wear."

Carlisle chuckled, buoyed by Edward's enthusiasm. He flipped the coffee maker on. "When do you start?"

"Monday. Speaking of which…" Edward trailed off, and when Carlisle looked up, he saw his brows were furrowed. "Carlisle, it's...really early. Or really late. I'm keeping you awake. I'm sorry."

"You're excited. This is a good thing."

Edward studied him a beat. "Are you okay?"

Carlisle's heart gave a twist. He wasn't okay. It had been a hellish day at the hospital, but he wasn't about to rain on Edward's parade. "I'm fine. I'm just not going to sleep, that's all." He turned and started to rummage through for mugs. "We should go out to celebrate tomorrow. Or tonight, depending on how you look at it."

"Not tonight. Three weeks. When I get my first paycheck."

"Then we'll celebrate your first paycheck."

Edward narrowed his eyes. Carlisle crossed his arms and looked back at him patiently. Edward cracked first. "Fine, but only because there are negotiations to hammer out."

Carlisle quirked an eyebrow. "Negotiations?"

 _ **~0~**_

Carlisle, knowing how much Edward liked seafood, took him to his favorite crab place. He'd done it mostly for his own amusement. It was the kind of place where there were no plates or silverware. Everything ordered came in a bag, swimming in sauce, and detritus—shrimp tails and crab shells—ended up in big, messy piles on the table.

Edward was delightfully horrified. It had been one of the first things Carlisle discovered after Edward was able to take regular showers, shave, and clean his clothes. He was a neat freak. Carlisle had never seen the man get sauce or anything else anywhere other than his mouth when he ate.

Sure enough, the look on Edward's face was priceless. It was a look of wide-eyed horror, as though Carlisle had told him they'd be dining on grubs and maggots. But he only figured it out after the food arrived. He stared at the bag placed in front of him in confusion until he looked around, saw the mess other people were making, and put the pieces together.

"That's barbaric," Edward muttered, staring at his bag as though it would turn into a nicely arranged plate if he just scowled hard enough.

"It's a conundrum, isn't it?" Carlisle said, happily rolling up his sleeves. "You either eat like a savage or you don't get shrimp, crabs, and crawfish slathered in cajun, garlic, and butter sauce." He cracked a crab claw and smiled serenely. "Your choice."

Now that the challenge had been presented to him, Edward looked determined. He rolled up his sleeves, peered into his bag and, oh so gingerly, extracted a shrimp. He started to peel the shrimp, wiping his fingers on the paper towel—there was a whole roll at each table—every few seconds.

Well, best of luck to him. "So," Carlisle said, making a pile of crab shell and a pile of crab meat as he spoke. "You were saying about negotiations?"

Edward's eyes darted between his meal and Carlisle as though he didn't trust the former not to step out of line. "Um, rent. I want to pay rent."

Carlisle sighed. He'd thought they could put this conversation off at least until Edward actually had a dime to his name. "I don't even pay rent. The house is paid for."

"That's not the point and you know it. That room has value. You could rent it out for $400 at least. I looked it up. Just a room in your neighborhood goes for $700 more often than $400. And it's not like you're independently wealthy. It's great you have a house and all, but it's not like you aren't working to support yourself."

Carlisle gave a wry snort. He had enough to support himself and another person. He'd known that when he told Jasper they were leaving. "It's just not necessary, Edward, and it's not all that logical either."

Edward fixed him with a glare. "Paying rent isn't logical?"

"Of course it is if you have to."

"Everyone has to."

"Not everyone has to." Carlisle shook his head. "I'm not going to ask you what your starting salary is, but I can hazard a guess. You're starting off at three days a week with six hour days. I'm going to ballpark your monthly income at $900, and that's being generous.

"With that, if you rent a room, you'll barely have enough to survive. Which is fine, of course. No shame in just surviving, treading water, but you have an opportunity to advance. Don't throw it out the window because of semantics."

Edward had set down his food entirely, and he was staring at the table. "I'm… I'm just so sick of being useless. I can't be a drain. I can't be a worthless waste of space."

"There's nothing about paying rent that makes you more or less valuable as a human being." Carlisle sighed. He knew that the way people had looked at him when he was nothing more than a dirty bum on the street had left a deep wound on Edward's psyche. He hoped the young man wouldn't be working the rest of his life simply to prove he had value. "There's still so much you need to be secure. A car of your own, not because I mind sharing the car with you, but you need the flexibility, especially if you want to go back to school. And speaking of school, you need a laptop, or at least a smartphone or a tablet. Sure, you could get by without these things, but you'll have more opportunities if you have them."

Edward was quiet at that. Carlisle reached across the table and touched his hand briefly. "You know there's no shame in any of this. Building a life from scratch, from nothing, is next to impossible. Being completely self-sufficient takes time and patience. Honestly, I'm not even sure it's possible to be self-sufficient, all on your own, in California without some kind of windfall. I'd never have a house of my own on my salary if it hadn't been left to me, free and clear, by my father."

"I want to do something," Edward said. He sounded so damn miserable about it.

Carlisle nodded. "How about utilities? Once you get paid, you can pay one of the bills."

Edward straightened up. "Half of all the utilities. Except the Internet." His lip twitched. "Until I get a laptop."

Carlisle nodded. "Done," he said, and stretched his hand out to shake, barely containing his smirk as Edward recoiled from his filthy, buttery fingers.

 _ **~0~**_

Life took on a manageable cadence. Every week, Carlisle and Edward would compare their schedules and figure out a plan for the shared resource of Carlisle's car. They shared cooking duties, one of them often preparing lunch for the other depending on who was off.

Edward had grown a remarkable penchant for research. Since he couldn't actually speed up time, he tried to plan ahead as much as possible, trying to know down to the penny what he had to work with. He went as far as to find the figures that went into how much he'd receive in food stamps once he had his new income. He was still eligible—as Carlisle had pointed out, he was barely making enough money to survive—but there'd be a significant cut to the $194 he'd been getting with zero income.

That was okay. Food was a more manageable expense for two single men than it would have been for a family. Edward figured that he could make his lunches off his food stamps. He could still supplement by going to the food banks—again, one of the few benefits of being poor in a place like Orange County—to make them dinner several times a week. Carlisle always had more eggs and oatmeal than he could eat by himself, so breakfast was taken care of.

He continued to supplement what he got by stopping by the food bank several times a month, making dinner for them several times a week off that food.

As promised, when he got his first paycheck, Edward treated Carlisle to dinner at the Jazz Kitchen in Downtown Disney. "Because if I'm not going to get health insurance, I can take advantage of cast member discounts. Thank goodness for Medi-Cal. For now."

For Carlisle, he was just happy watching Edward beam with pride at being able to buy them a meal for once. It was different, Edward said, having money of his own. Money he'd earned. Oh, sure, his father had given him pocket money in exchange for doing a little work at his company, but that wasn't quite the same.

Either way, Edward was relaxed and happy that evening. Things were looking up.

 _ **~Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs - Safety~**_

The second tier of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is safety, including personal security, financial security, health and well-being. To quote wikipedia, who sums it up nicely, "Once a person's physiological needs are relatively satisfied, their safety needs take precedence and dominate behavior."

* * *

 **A/N: Moving on up. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello, my ducks! Long time no update. Gah!**

* * *

"You know what the good thing about my job is?" Edward asked, flipping the grilled cheese out of the pan and onto a plate. "I mean in an, 'of all the jobs in Disneyland' way."

"What's that?" Carlisle asked. He had his elbows on the table and his hands balled in fists, rubbing his eyes.

"I never have to be there when the park opens. Not that I would mind," he said quickly, not wanting anyone to think he was lazy. "But it seems to work out better with our schedules." He brought two plates with a grilled cheese each over and set one on the table in front of Carlisle.

His friend raised his head. "That smells good. Thank you."

Edward hummed an acknowledgement, watching Carlisle for a beat. There were dark circles under his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Carlisle flashed a smile that wasn't at all convincing. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Taking him at his word, Edward bit into his own sandwich. "Hey, so, guess who's supposed to come into the park today?"

After he finished his sandwich, Edward went to freshen up. He went over a mental checklist for the umpteenth time. The next day was payday, and it made him calmer to know where each penny would go. Most of it went toward a downpayment for a car. In his quest to accumulate things he needed in his life, that one seemed obvious, at least for someone who lived in Southern California. He needed to be mobile.

It was funny and strange how life expanded and how easily it could be chipped away. He'd been born to a life of upper-middle class luxury. He had a house, a yard to play in, access to the internet, a closet full of clothes, a refrigerator full of food, a car on his sixteenth birthday, and a healthy allowance. When his parents kicked him to the curb, his life had been reduced to the clothes on his back and whatever he could fit in his backpack.

His world was expanding again in careful lurches. It was nerve-wracking. Edward was saving for a car, but Carlisle was trying to convince him to save enough for a healthy down payment, not to buy outright. Good credit took years to build, and a car was a good way to get an installment payment on his record.

To Edward, a car payment was taking the risk of ending up in the negative. It was the one saving grace of the whole situation that he'd lost everything while he still had no debt to his name. Maybe his life had been reduced to nothing, but zero was better than having a minus sign attached to his worth. That was a hellish, overwhelming thought. What if he'd gotten to this point and still had to pay back before he could even think about building?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the oppressive thoughts, Edward headed out. He was surprised to find Carlisle still sitting at the table, staring into space, his mostly untouched sandwich long cold in front of him.

"Hey." Edward came over and put a tentative hand to Carlisle's shoulder. The man blinked, looking up at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Carlisle looked away and when he looked back, he was smiling again. That same smile from before that wasn't really convincing. "Yeah. Just—"

"Tired."

"Yeah." Carlisle drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

"Okay." He paused a second, feeling like he was missing something. "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh." Carlisle blinked again, his brow furrowed as though he were confused. "I'm not…" He pressed his lips together, and when he looked at Edward, his eyes were a little more clear. "Garrett is going to pick me up today."

Now, it was Edward's turn to blink. "He is?" This was confusing on many levels. Edward wanted an explanation, but he didn't want to push, thinking he must have gotten it wrong.

But when he pulled in to the employee parking area, he realized that no, he hadn't gotten anything wrong. Edward was obsessive about more than just his money. Whenever he got his schedule or Carlisle got his, Edward poured over it, memorizing times and dates. He knew the exact minute he had to leave the house, compensating for even the worst traffic.

He was at work early. He was at work early because he'd planned to drop Carlisle off. Carlisle's shift began an hour before his did and ended three hours after. That was why Edward had the car—which Carlisle insisted on sharing—and why he now had extra time.

Carlisle's friend and coworker, Garrett, often picked Carlisle up when their shifts coincided. That was normal. What wasn't normal was Carlisle changing that plan without telling Edward. He knew how anal retentive Edward could get over those details.

No, Edward was sure he'd heard right through first time.

Letting that go—he figured Carlisle was simply more laid back about work times in his normal life—Edward headed for the employee lounge. He had to try to relax before he started obsessing about what this change could mean. Was Carlisle getting sick of him finally?

Whatever. He couldn't think about it when he was supposed to be chipper in the happiest place on earth in an hour. Everyone was still buzzing about the big celebrity who was supposed to be visiting the park today, so it wasn't too difficult for Edward to put himself in the middle of that conversation.

When it was closer to his shift beginning, Edward headed to uniform checkout and then the locker room to change. Vest. Crisp pants. Starched white shirt. He headed out.

Some hours later his feet hurt and the heat of the day made his head and neck damp with sweat. The work was mind-numbing but constant—there was never any shortage of people at Disneyland, and most didn't mind answering a few short questions. Before he knew it, his shift was over.

He got back to the locker rooms to see the new schedules were posted. After he'd changed, he went to take a look. "Damn," he muttered.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder. "What's up? Get a sucky schedule?"

Edward turned around to find his favorite coworker behind him, pushed up onto her tiptoes to peer at the schedule. He smiled, honestly happy to see her. Bella had been a newbie with him, and he found talking to her easier than talking to most of the others. She was a pretty college student about a year younger than he was. "Hey," he said, stepping to her side so she could get a better view. "Don't mind me. The schedule's fine, it just makes my car situation a little bit complicated."

The times didn't overlap well this week. If he was remembering Carlisle's schedule correctly, his nursing shift started before Edward's assigned shift. He laughed to himself. "Look at me getting spoiled. It's not like I don't know how to take a bus." Cars were endlessly more efficient means of transportation, and Edward had come to prize efficiency.

"Hmm. Where do you live?" Bella asked.

Edward told her the cross streets of Carlisle's house, and she brightened. "Our schedules match, and it's not out of my way. Why don't I pick you up?"

He realized he was gaping at her when she ducked her head, letting her hair fall across her face, hiding. "Hey, it's no big deal if—"

"No," Edward said quickly, realizing he'd made her uncomfortable. He wanted to laugh at himself. How could he explain that his brain had skipped because he'd wanted to argue, but realized it was a fairly normal thing to offer. Bella was his friend, and even the most casual of friends offered up a simple ride. "I'm sorry. Um, I mean, if it's no trouble…"

She brightened again. "No problem. I mean, nothing wrong with buses, but they're a pain in the ass."

"Right." Edward rubbed the back of his neck, still out of sorts. It was ridiculous. He'd been interacting just fine with his coworkers. True, he felt separate somehow. None of them had a home life like he did—taken in by a complete stranger straight off the street. None of them were trying to restart a life from scratch after their old life, the one they'd had since infancy, had been blown to bits.

They walked out to the tram together, exchanging numbers. Bella teased him for his clunker of a phone, and he only smiled.

Before they could head their separate ways, Bella turned to him, shouldering her bag. She cleared her throat and shifted on her feet, looking weirdly nervous. "Hey, so, Tanya's sorority is throwing a party." Bella said. Tanya was another coworker of theirs.

Random. "Okay. That's nice."

For some reason, Bella found that funny. "I'm inviting you, doof."

"What?" Edward asked, the epitome of brilliant.

"Friday night. You're off. I'm off. Let's have some fun." Just like before, Edward stared and Bella's pretty smile fell. She ducked her head. "Sorry. It's not mandatory or anything."

"No! I mean…" Edward grasped for words. Damn, he was being an asshole today. "Sorry. It's just, I guess it's been awhile since anyone has invited me anywhere." His cheeks flamed. Could he be more socially awkward? "A party?"

Her easy smile was back. "Surely you've heard of them." She teased.

"Yeah." He'd even been to a sorority party before, but his college life felt like it had to have belonged to someone else—a story someone told him once. "It could be fun."

Bella brightened, her cheeks gone pink with pleasure. "Great."

Something about her almost-shy smile set off warning bells in his head. Even then, he almost missed it. He was still getting used to people treating him like he was human again. Attraction wasn't on his radar yet.

Oh, hell.

"Um, Bella…" Now it was him shifting on his feet. Fuck, this was an awkward conversation no matter what, and he was rusty with his interpersonal relations skills. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm totally off-base here. Reading between the lines isn't my strongest talent right now." He hesitated, trying to figure out why his gut was twisting, and he'd broken out in a cold sweat. "I, uh… I'm…" Why the fuck was this so hard to say? "I'm gay."

He held his breath. It felt strangely and ridiculously like he was waiting for the world to end.

Bella blinked. "Oh," she said quietly. Then, "Oh. Oh, okay." She laughed and smiled at him. "Well, damn. Yeah, for the record, you weren't reading the signs wrong."

Edward gave a weak laugh, still watching her carefully. His heart was pounding too fast.

"Hey, I know of a few guys who are going to be very happy to hear that." She waggled her eyebrows playfully.

Edward flushed hot and looked down at his shoes. "I...I don't—"

"You have a boyfriend?"

He huffed. "No, it's not that." Could he be more of a freak in front of one person? He was probably scaring her. "It's just been a long time since I've thought about that kind of thing."

When he peeked up, there was a strange expression on her face. "And it's been a long time since anyone has invited you anywhere," she said, almost to herself.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, searching for something to say and coming up blank. A nameless anxiety crawled over his skin. He had the strange urge to start running.

Bella smiled, obviously deciding not to ask. "Still come to the party. It'll be a good time."

"Are you sure?" he asked, almost surprised.

"Yeah." She bumped his hip. "I mean, come on. You can't blame me for my attraction, right? Look at you." She gestured at him. "And you're all kinds of cool on top of that."

Edward arched an eyebrow. "I'm cool?" It was such a pathetic thing to say. It hadn't been that many years ago that he'd been downright arrogant. Teenage-Edward thought he was amazing.

Bella laughed. "Sure. You're wicked funny when you get snarky. And you haven't once told me I should try out to be Belle just because my name is Bella." She rolled her eyes.

"And because you're Princess-pretty." He was teasing. He knew from previous experience Bella didn't want to be a princess, no matter how badass they were.

She pointed at him. "You're pushing it, Masen." She smiled. "So, I'll pick you up for work starting Monday then, right?"

He nodded, and they said their good-byes.

Despite the fact everything had ended on a cheerful note, Edward was relieved when she walked away. He hurried on shaky legs toward Carlisle's car, trying to figure out why the hell he was trembling. He recognized the feeling of an adrenaline high fading into the shakes.

He'd been scared. Not just scared, he'd been terrified of this woman he barely knew. A woman he knew to be very sweet, kind, and tolerant.

His mind stressed that last part. She was tolerant. Why was that important? If he was being honest with himself, the answer was plain as day. Because, he figured, he hadn't been scared she'd react badly to being gently rejected. He'd been terrified to utter those words. "I'm gay."

Because, the last time someone had found out he was gay, he'd lost everything.

Edward thunked his head against the steering wheel, finally calming down. This was Disneyland, he reminded himself. Every fifth person he saw was gay, and that was a conservative estimate. But maybe that fact hadn't helped his psyche. After all, in college he'd embraced his homosexuality because it was so easily accepted—no big deal. It had given him a false sense of security.

He supposed the whole ordeal had put him back in the closet in a way. Sure, he was gay, but it had been a long time since he'd wanted anyone to know it. Failed prostitution attempt aside—plenty of straight homeless men did that—he hadn't thought of sex and attraction. He hadn't thought of being attracted to anyone any more than he'd thought about whether or not people were attracted to him.

Letting all that go for the moment, Edward started up the car and started driving. He tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel, reevaluating the conversation now that he wasn't in panic mode.

Bella, he realized, was a friend. Someone he wanted to keep in his life, to talk to, and, yeah, hang out with. Being social again had crept up on him while he was concentrating on getting a job and keeping it. Hell, if he went to this party, he'd have to accept he had a social life. And why that idea made him nervous, he really didn't know. He'd been a sociable guy before.

Had he changed so completely?

Edward pulled into the driveway and headed inside. He gave a yelp when he walked in the door and saw someone in the living room. "Carlisle?" He furrowed his brow.

Carlisle looked up. He seemed a bit spaced out. Not drugged or drunk—Edward would have recognized that—but something similar. He took a few steps toward the other man, uncertain. "Are you okay? Why are you home from work?" Edward was supposed to pick him up in a couple of hours, but he wasn't even in his scrubs.

And he hadn't been when he left, Edward realized suddenly. "You didn't go to work," he said out loud.

Carlisle shook his head, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Yeah, I…" He shook his head again, and when he looked at Edward, his eyes seemed a little clearer. "There was an incident yesterday. I gave a patient the wrong dosage. I caught it in time, but it's protocol to do a review." He looked away. "So, I'm on leave for a few days at least."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Edward asked, his voice rough. Already, his mind was spinning. What if Carlisle lost his job? How long could he keep the house? Could Edward afford to pay the bills on his meager salary?

Was he going to lose this sanctuary?

"I didn't want you to worry," Carlisle said quietly. "It's...I mean, everyone makes mistakes. It's just that this is the health industry. Our mistakes have very real consequences." There was something strange about his voice. It was almost monotone, as though he were reading a script. Maybe what he'd been telling himself, but for some reason, Edward didn't think that was true.

No, for some reason, Edward thought those words were for him. Carlisle was comforting Edward, knowing he'd be worried that he was going to lose the man primarily responsible for keeping a roof over his head.

Some fucking friend Edward was, thinking of himself when Carlisle had to feel terrible. He patted Carlisle's knee. "Do you, um…" Fucking rusty empathy skills. What the hell. "I always thought it would suck to be a doctor or a nurse. Helping people is great. That's a great thing, but man, no one is on top of their game a hundred percent of the time. That's impossible."

Carlisle tilted his head, looking at him. Edward offered a smile. "You're only human."

"That's what they'll tell me in the end. Probably." Carlisle looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And you believe that, right?" Edward prompted.

Carlisle was quiet for too long. "You can talk to me," Edward said, scooting another inch closer to him, wanting very badly to comfort him. "I'm not going to judge you. I hope you know that."

"Maybe you should," Carlisle murmured so softly Edward almost didn't hear him.

The way he hunched his shoulders and curled away made Edward's heart ache. He reached out without thinking, taking Carlisle's hand in both of his. "Talk to me."

For long moments, Carlisle only breathed. He was really upset, but he was trying to keep it bottled up tight. Edward could read that in the set of his shoulders, the hard lines of his clenched jaw. But he hadn't yanked his hand out of his grasp, so Edward just held on and waited.

Finally, Carlisle took a shuddering breath. "There was another patient. Male. Twenties." He paused. "Homeless."

"Oh." Edward squeezed Carlisle's hands.

"I couldn't get a hold of the doctor. The man's light was on, but I was busy with trying to get a hold of the doctor for the other patient. To clarify, you know, about the medication. I had to make a judgment call one way or another, and of course I followed protocol, but I think I was distracted."

Edward didn't have the right words. He didn't understand what went on in a nurse's job. He knew lives hung in the balance, but no one made zero mistakes. That was an impossibility. There had to be a difference between negligence and a mistake. But, he assumed whomever was reviewing the incident would tell Carlisle all that.

"Tell me about the other patient," he said quietly, suspecting that was what Carlisle needed to vent about most.

After another long silence, Carlisle swallowed hard. "It's...It's hard, you know? The homeless...They're just so alone."

Edward didn't comment at that because this wasn't about him. He understood, though. He'd taken a tumble once and thought for a time his leg might have been broken. He'd thought about it often. If something happened to him, no one would care enough to come.

Carlisle's breath shuddered. "He died alone," he whispered, and Edward didn't have to ask who he meant.

Carlisle put his hands over his eyes. His shoulders began to shake. Edward didn't hesitate. He put an arm around Carlisle. The other man stiffened but only a moment before he melted into the embrace. "I would have been there." His breath hitched. "He didn't have to be alone. I would have been there."

"I know," Edward said, stroking his hair. "And he knew too."

Carlisle ducked his head then against Edward's shoulder and began to cry softly. Edward held him, glad at least that he could offer some measure of comfort. Glad that Carlisle wasn't alone either.

* * *

 ** **A/N: Many thanks, as always, to Betsy, Eleanor, Packy, MyOnlyHeroin, and Mina for all their help. Much love.****


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: YIKES. Thanks for sticking around, kiddos. This fic wouldn't talk to me for a hot minute. Humph.**

* * *

Carlisle was having a wonderful dream. He dreamed he'd opened his eyes and Edward was there, hovering over him in the semi-darkness of the very early morning. It was a dream he'd had before, though usually Edward wasn't this clothed.

He'd felt guilty about it the first time. He'd never meant to look at Edward with those eyes, but he was only human. Edward was beautiful. More than that, he was intriguing, and strong. All these months, Carlisle had watched in wonder and fascination as more and more of him, the core essence of who he was, came out.

Carlisle liked him. He couldn't help it. He had no intention to act on it, but he couldn't help how he felt. But dreams? Dreams were okay.

He reached up and cupped Edward's cheek, running a thumb over his lips. He really was wearing too many clothes.

Too many clothes, and now his eyes had gone wide with surprise. He pulled back.

And, that was when Carlisle figured out he was awake. He bolted upright in bed. Edward stood too, stumbling a few steps backward. For several long, awkward seconds, they just stared at each other.

"I'm sorry," they blurted together.

Edward shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. This is… I'm way out of line right now. I was knocking on the door, but I shouldn't have come in when you didn't answer. I was just excited and I…" He rubbed the back of his neck looking sheepish and pained. "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

"No," Carlisle said quickly. He tried to disentangle himself from his blankets to catch Edward before he left. "It's fine. You have to tell me what you're so excited about anyway. You wanted me awake. I'm awake."

Still flushed red with embarrassment, Edward shuffled a step or two back toward him. "It was a dumb idea."

Carlisle reached out, but he drew his hand back almost as quickly. He swallowed hard, wondering why the hell he felt so out of sorts. He made an effort to put a reassuring smile on. "What's the idea? What the heck could you need at an ungodly hour in the morning?"

"Ungodly?" Edward's beautiful smile pulled at the edges of his lips. "Sometimes you're awake at three in the morning."

A heaviness came over Carlisle then, and he looked down. "It's different when I'm not working."

"Yeah. That's why I was thinking, you're not working today, and I'm not working. Today would be a good day to go to Disneyland."

Carlisle looked up, blinking at him. "You go to Disneyland nearly every day."

Edward laughed. "I mean we should _go_ to Disneyland. Ride rides. Have a little fun." He looked down, worrying his fingers along the edge of his shirt. "Yeah, you're an adult. I mean...I'm an adult too." He shook his head. "A lot of the people who work there love the place. It's probably a dumb thing. Who the hell wants to spend hours in line for rides that are over in a minute or two?"

Carlisle tilted his head. "Have you ever been to Disneyland outside of work?"

"I snuck a ride in here and there, but I haven't had a day at Disney since I was little." He looked almost shy as he met Carlisle's eyes. "The submarine ride was a lot more exciting back then."

"Didn't pass muster, huh?" Carlisle asked, amused.

He shrugged. "It's okay. Might be the being an adult versus being a kid factor. It's just cheesy to me now. But the new Star Tours was great."

Carlisle nodded slowly. "I've never been."

Edward's eyebrows shot for his hairline. "But, you live here. You've always lived here."

"There were a few field trips in school, but my father would never pay for me to wait in line."

"Uh huh." Edward nodded slowly. His jaw got taut whenever Carlisle mentioned his father; he'd noticed that. "Well, you won't have to pay to get in."

"I think it sounds like fun." Carlisle didn't actually know how he felt about going to Disneyland for the first time at his age, but it wasn't like he was doing anything else. Besides, Edward had obviously put some thought into this. "Are they really open this early?"

Edward looked sheepish. "Well, no. But I made us a reservation to eat at the Grand Californian. At the character breakfast. But we totally don't have to go. We could—"

"What's a character breakfast?"

Edward's cheeks went bright red then. "You know. The characters walk around while you have breakfast. Yeah. It's dumb. We can just have—"

"It sounds like fun." Again, Carlisle didn't know that he would call the idea fun. It sounded kind of weird, actually. But, he was sure it wouldn't be horrible one way or another. He enjoyed Edward's company, and he was a fan of breakfast, so it couldn't be so bad, right?

 _ **~0~**_

The breakfast was amusing to the say the least. The best part was seeing the way Edward's eyes lit up. He tried to hide it at first, smiling only indulgently when a character would come up to their table. He tried to wave them away at first. But Chip poked at Carlisle's phone, gesturing that he should take a picture. When Carlisle did, Edward posed with a big, goofy grin, his head tilted toward the giant chipmunk.

So, breakfast continued. Somehow, Carlisle managed to down way too many waffles and probably a whole plate of bacon. What made this somewhat impressive was the fact they were interrupted every few minutes by an over-large forest creature.

He and Edward were mid-conversation when two bears ambled up. Carlisle was perplexed. He'd at least recognized Chip, Dale, and the weird monkey that had come over before. But plain old bears?

Edward, however, lit up. He greeted the bears by the names Koda and Kenai and gave them hugs. "Not the kind of bears I'm usually into, but you'll do."

Carlisle choked on his coffee doing a spit-take across the table. He pressed the back of his hand as he coughed, cackling between wheezes. Edward had turned bright red. The bears were posing with their paws on their cheeks in mock-astonishment.

A waiter hurried over the mop up some of the mess. Carlisle got ahold of himself. Edward looked sheepishly at one of the bears. "Sorry." He opened his arms. "Hug?"

The bear tilted its head, somehow dubious despite the permanent grin. He took two stage-surreptitious steps back and, to Carlisle's surprise, took him by the hand, pulling him to his feet. He directed Carlisle, pushing and pulling until he was standing next to Edward. He pointed to Carlisle, made a hugging gesture, and pointed emphatically to Edward. The bear put his hands to his mouth, mimicking laughter as though to make sure Carlisle and Edward knew he wasn't really a homophobe.

"But who'll take the picture?" Carlisle asked, nervous for some strange reason. The other bear had put an arm around Edward in a loose hold, bringing him closer to Carlisle.

The first bear plucked Carlisle's phone from his hand and handed it to the waiter. He gestured again that Carlisle and Edward should hug.

Hesitantly, glancing at each other and then away, Carlisle and Edward complied. Carlisle wrapped an arm around Edward's shoulder, pulling him close. Edward wrapped an arm around his waist. The bears on either side of them gently tilted their heads together—insistent little things.

They thought he and Edward were a couple, Carlisle realized. If they had been, it would be quite a special picture. His cheeks heated. He couldn't pretend he didn't recognize that Edward felt good in his arms. Right, somehow.

He let his friend go as soon as the waiter put his phone down. Edward cleared his throat. For a few awkward beats after the bears left their table, neither of them spoke.

Then, Edward offered a smile. "Come on. Let's go get food that isn't splattered with coffee."

After breakfast, Edward got them into California Adventure first. He picked up a quick step. Carlisle chuckled, glancing around them. Just like Edward, as soon as they got past security, most of the other guests started all but running. "So, are you required to do this at a run or…"

Edward tossed a grin over his shoulder. "You do live under a rock when it comes to Disney, don't you?"

"Well, I know a lot about how to take surveys at the gates." He winked.

"There's a new ride. They refurbished the Tower of Terror to make it Guardians of the Galaxy themed."

"Guardians of the what?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Oh, man." He sighed. "Guardians of the Galaxy, the first one, was one of the last movies I saw. It was the summer before my junior year. I took my mother because my father wouldn't ever see something with a talking racoon."

His tone, Carlisle noted, was sad but more wistful than anything. A far cry from the filthy young man who'd stood at his stove, his eyes empty as he talked about why his parents had taken everything from him—his home, his future, and their love.

He reached out and touched his shoulder. "My father wouldn't have even let my mother go, let alone me."

Edward's lips quirked. He stopped. "Here we are."

Carlisle blinked, looking around. "It's...a line."

"Yeah, they have a lot of those here."

"This is the line for the ride?"

"No." Edward's grin broadened. "This is the line to get tickets for the ride."

"There are tickets?"

"They're called fast passes. We get fast passes so we can get in a shorter line for the ride later."

Carlisle stared at Edward in horror. "Wait. Wait. Go back a few steps. This is a line to get in a different line?"

Edward burst out laughing. "I knew you were going to say that."

"And this is supposed to be the happiest place on Earth?" Carlisle asked. He hated to admit to things his father might have been right about.

"It'll make sense at some point." Edward shrugged. "At least, that's what I've been told."

"Sure, okay."

Carlisle was half sure Edward had to be kidding about the whole line to get a pass to get in line thing. He wasn't. There were machines at the end of the line which spat out tickets. "Not too bad," Edward said.

Their tickets were for twelve thirty. It was barely eight twenty.

After that, Edward dragged them out of California Adventures to go to Disneyland. "If you've never been, you _have_ to start here."

And so, they got in another line to get into that park.

"So. Now we get to get in line to get on rides, right?" Carlisle asked.

"Not yet."

Carlisle arched an eyebrow. Edward laughed and led him to one of the first shops. "We have to get Mickey ears."

"Wait. What?" Carlisle let out a shocked laugh. "I'm not… That's not necessary."

"It is, though. So I've heard."

"This is…" Carlisle bit his tongue before he could sound like his father, grumbling over the idea of a grown man wearing mouse ears. Everything about this place was ridiculous. Lines for everything. People teeming, and human beings dressed up like gigantic, clothed animals. "I'm sure it costs more money than necessary." And he wasn't going to wear it.

Edward looked at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I see one that's just your style." He turned around, walking the shelf backward. "And I get a discount, remember?"

Carlisle balked at a spangled headband that said it was $18.95. "I don't think there's such thing as a good discount here," he muttered under his breath.

He looked up to find Edward so close, he sucked in a breath. Edward didn't seem to notice. He fixed a cap on top of his head that appeared to have a wispy, white beard hanging well below Carlisle's chin. "What—"

Taking him by the shoulders, Edward led Carlisle in front of a mirror. It was a Grumpy hat, mimicking the scowling dwarf from Snow White. "Uh huh. Well, I see one for you." He grabbed a giant hat with long Goofy ears.

"Naw. How about…" Edward grabbed for an ostentatious pirate hat with long dreads hanging down from it. He put on a squinty-eyed expression. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said in a weird accent.

"What?" Carlisle asked.

Edward looked exasperated. "Okay. We're going to have to work on your pop culture knowledge."

"I don't even know what most of these are," Carlisle said, glancing around.

"How about Star Wars? Even you have to know Star Wars." Edward waved an R2-D2 set of ears at him.

"Ah. No. I mean, yes I know Star Wars, but no to the ears."

"How about classic Mickey?" He pointed to the plain ears Carlisle had seen in commercials and the like.

Carlisle pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Edward. It's a sweet idea, but…" He shrugged. "I don't know. I think I'm too old for this kind of thing. If you want to—"

"If you're too old, I have a solution to that too." Edward darted to another corner and brought over a set of ears that was black like the classic Mickey but the ears were long like a rabbit's.

"What is this?" Carlisle asked, confused.

"Oswald Rabbit. Walt's first creation, circa 1927." Edward flashed him a brilliant grin. "More your era?"

He was so bright and happy, Carlisle's moodiness slipped several degrees. He laughed and ruffled Edward's hair. "You're a brat."

Because it so obviously made Edward happy, Carlisle agreed to the Mickey ears. Just the plain Mickey ears. Edward got a Peter Pan hat with a smart, red feather in it. He looked about twelve years old when he put it on, but he smiled so proudly, Carlisle didn't mention it.

He rolled his eyes so hard when Edward insisted on getting their names sewn into the backs. Gold for Carlisle. Red for Edward.

Finally, over an hour after they'd entered the first park, they were on the Buzz Lightyear ride. That was fun. Carlisle did have a competitive streak, and he exited the ride strutting because he scored more points than Edward did.

He bitched his way through the Star Tours line, but the ride more than made up for it. The plot line of the ride was fun and adventurous. All the riders were supposed to be on some kind of tour shuttle about to hurtle through space to distant planets only to be stopped by Darth Vader who claimed there was a Rebel spy onboard. "How do you get to be the Rebel Spy?" he asked Edward. One of the riders had been chosen at random, their picture flashed up on the screen. It was a neat touch.

"Don't be as ugly as you," Edward quipped.

They went on Big Thunder Railroad. Also fun. And then Pirates of the Caribbean.

"The hat makes sense now. Also, that was a very slow ride," Carlisle said, but he hummed the Yo-Ho song as they walked on, and Edward laughed at him.

They got another set of Fast Passes for Indiana Jones and headed back over to the first park to ride Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout. There, they did indeed have to join a line, albeit a much shorter one than the obnoxiously large line winding its way down the street from the ride.

"Brand new ride," Edward said with a shrug. "It'll calm down."

"Sure. And then you'll only have to wait the better part of an hour to get on it."

But, by then, Carlisle had to admit even to himself it wasn't as though he was having a bad time in line. First of all, he'd never minded it in theory. Never got impatient and resentful when he had to stand in any other line. These lines were much more fun than all that.

For one thing, the people-watching was top notch. He'd expected to feel self-conscious. Surely two full grown men going to Disneyland without children could only look like creepers. Wasn't it a little, well, gay?

In reality, there were a lot of grown-up couples there without children. There were groups of adults, too. Men and women both in their twenties, thirties, forties and beyond, most in themed t-shirts. If anything, they were more excited then the kids were.

Then, of course, the company was great. Edward taught him about how to spot Hidden Mickeys, the varied and ridiculous questions guests asked. "There is a widespread theory that there's a dome around Disneyland, and that we can control the weather. Legitimately, enough people believe that so nearly every Cast Member has a story of someone asking them to please turn the rain or the heat down."

Finally, they were swept into the world of the ride. Carlisle was bemused. Apparently, Edward hadn't been kidding about the live-action, talking raccoon.

For whatever reason, despite the fact almost everyone around them in line had been buzzing about it, Carlisle hadn't stopped to think just what kind of a ride existed in a building that was much taller than it was wide. So the ascents, and the inevitable drops, came as a total surprise.

He screamed. A lot.

When the ride ended, he was breathless and giddy. It was such a strange emotion that he started to laugh. Well, in truth, he started to giggle maniacally. Beside him, Edward chortled. They looked at each other.

It was then Carlisle noticed that he was clutching Edward's hand, their fingers twined tightly together.

* * *

 **A/N: I want to send a thanks to my group who helped me talk it out when I was struggling with the chapter. And thanks, Ausha!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Phew! I know...after such a long wait, this is such a short chappy. The flow of this story has me a bit vexed, but I think I've got it. Onward!**

* * *

Edward had no earthly idea what had gotten into him.

Once upon a time, he'd been the kind of guy—kid, he supposed—that could get almost anything he wanted from almost anyone. From teachers to fellow students to baristas, he could wink, smile, and charm his way into extensions, favors, and free things.

At some point during their Disney day—probably some point after Carlisle had clutched his hand on the Guardians of the Galaxy ride—Edward had decided that his friend needed to come with him to the sorority party Bella had invited him to. When he first suggested it, Carlisle had looked at him like he'd grown another head, but the more he thought about it, the more the prospect excited Edward.

"It's for my own good," Edward said.

" _Your_ own good?"

"Yeah. Look, I don't know how to socialize anymore." That much was nothing but the truth. "I need someone to protect me."

"From the sorority girls?" Carlisle tilted his head, fixing him with cocked eyebrow.

"Hey, if Bella hangs out with them, they can be pretty fierce," Edward said easily. "But I meant in general." He took a breath, because the next part was a little too serious for comfort. "Really, Carlisle. People kind of freak me out a bit right now. You know? I'm just a little bit jumpy." He looked Carlisle in the eyes. "You feel safe to me."

Carlisle opened his mouth to reply but shut it again just as quickly. He ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. "It's not as though I know how to socialize any more than you do."

Edward snorted. "A nurse doesn't talk to people?"

"Well, it's a bit different. The people I talk to are about to get undressed or at least get up on a scale. Which is fine. Nothing to be ashamed of, but the point is, they're the ones in a vulnerable position." He gave the smallest shudder, uncertainty flitting across his features. "But at a party? If you think you'd be nervous?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't even know what to wear."

"Ah." Edward grinned his best Cheshire Cat smile. "I'm out of practice, but once upon a time, I did know how to dress. I need to get something for myself anyway. Come shopping with me."

The way Carlisle looked at him, Edward would have thought he'd suggested they go cow tipping. "Shopping for what?"

The man could be surprisingly adorable. It was his face—always so earnest and open. "For clothes." He put a hand to his chin, letting his eyes travel the length of Carlisle's body. It was a damn nice body; he'd noticed that before. "Black jeans. Tight ones."

Carlisle fixed him with a bemused look. "Tight jeans, hmm?"

"The difference between looking good and looking damn good is playing to your assets."

"Uh huh." Carlisle's voice, when he spoke, had taken on a deeper quality, just a touch of scratch. "What are my assets?"

Edward opened his mouth but quickly closed it again, realizing what he'd been about to say. A thrill went down his spine at the idea. He licked his lips, his eyes darting down again and back up. "Your assets?"

"Mmhm."

Suddenly, it was almost impossible to keep himself from reaching out. He wanted to cup Carlisle's ass and bring him in close. He controlled himself, but only barely, reaching out instead to brush his fingertips over Carlisle's biceps over his shirt. "Arms," he said, feeling strangely breathless. "You need a shirt. A simple one. Nothing flashy. No buttons. No silk. No shine. Cloth. Cut tight right here." He indicated t-shirt length sleeves. "Something that hugs your arms."

"Uh huh." Carlisle's shoulders seemed to rise and fall at a quickened rate, but maybe that was Edward's imagination. "A shirt that hugs my arms and tight jeans? So, you want me to wear clothes that don't fit?"

Edward swallowed hard. There was electricity in his veins; there was fire. He didn't know whether to starve it or feed it. His thoughts weren't quite coming together right. When he looked up at Carlisle, his lips turned up at one corner. "The idea is to find something that fits just right."

~0~

It wasn't until Edward had slipped into the dressing room right next to Carlisle's that he had a minute to stop and think. Even then, he was distracted by the sound of fabric rustling in the room next door.

Dressing rooms weren't as common as locker rooms in porn, but it was the same idea. There was the metal clack of a belt unbuckling, and the swish of pants sliding down onto the floor. That was all it took. If this were a porn, Edward would find some reason to be in Carlisle's stall right about now, and then…

Edward shook his head hard, pulling his shirt off with a yank. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. His head had gone a little chaotic.

Where was all this coming from? Anyone who looked at Carlisle would say he was attractive, but that hadn't really affected Edward before, not like this.

It was his own fault. Ever since he'd woken Carlisle up the morning before, things had been...different. What had he been thinking, invading a man's personal space?

What had Carlisle been thinking when he touched Edward's cheek so reverently, his eyes soft and tender?

Since yesterday, Edward had pushed the thought of what it could mean away every time it threatened. He moved onto the next thing, telling himself that Carlisle had only reacted naturally when he grabbed his hand on the ride, that they got closer as they walked and talked because Disneyland was crowded and noisy, that the thrill that went down Edward's spine every time their fingers brushed was simple static electricity.

But those moments, which had begun like a soft, unexpected rain, had reached a torrential downpour. It had been so hard for Edward not to flirt as they shopped. In his first life, before he'd lost everything, flirting had come so naturally to him. But he'd become so jumpy and awkward. Weird and surreal how it all flowed back to him.

Why Carlisle? He was the exact wrong person to be having these kinds of feelings for, these tugs of attraction and desire. Was it just what Edward had told him this morning—that he felt safe? He was also complicated. It had to be some kind of wrong given their history and Carlisle's obvious awkwardness about his sexuality. It was definitely asking for trouble given their living situation.

An exasperated sound drew Edward back to the moment. He smiled. "Having trouble?" he called.

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"Come out." Edward finished buttoning the shirt he was trying on. "Let me see."

They exited their stalls at the same time and then both paused, staring. Edward sucked in a breath and laughed at the same time. The sound came out strangled. Carlisle was definitely rocking those jeans, but… "Come here." Edward walked to him. "You don't tuck it in." He pulled Carlisle's shirt out of his jeans.

He realized belatedly that he'd done it again. He'd touched Carlisle much more intimately than he had a right to. But rather than let go, he raised his gaze up to meet Carlisle's eyes as he smoothed down the shirt over his chest. Carlisle's eyes had gone wide and dark. They darted down, and Edward could practically feel them running up his body.

"This is good," Edward said, his voice thicker than usual. "We should buy this." He let what he knew was a bratty smile creep up one corner of his mouth. "You can be knee deep in pretty college boys if you want to in this outfit."

Yeah, he didn't know what the hell he thought he was doing, but that apparently wasn't going to stop him from doing it.

To Edward's great pleasure, Carlisle's cheeks tinged bright pink. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes raking over Edward one more time. "Isn't that what you're going for?"

"No." Swallowing hard, Edward took a large step back. "You're there to protect me from the pretty college boys, remember?" he said as he ducked back into his stall. "I just want to see if I can be a normal human again."

"I don't know if you want to wear that outfit, then. They're going to swarm." There was a pause. "You'll be fine, you know. You're more normal than you think you are."

Edward didn't miss the shift in Carlisle's tone. He could almost see that expression on his face. That look that broke Edward's heart—sad eyes that stared forward without really seeing. Carlisle was haunted, and even though their ghosts were different, Edward understood that.

"You're more normal than you think you are too," Edward said as they both emerged again in their normal clothes. He had the urge to take his hand but resisted somehow. "Thanks for doing this for me."

Carlisle looked a little pale, but he smiled. "A college party is an important rite of passage after all." His grin widened. "I guess we all have to grow up sometime."

* * *

 **A/N: So! Much heart.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks for hanging in there, my doves!**

* * *

Carlisle wasn't a stranger to drinking. It was the only thing that had gotten him through some of the hardest days. He'd had enough self-control to keep it from getting to the point where he _needed_ alcohol just to function in the world, but he hadn't minded dulling the edge of the worst of it.

Though he was well aware a party wasn't supposed to be an anxiety-wracked circumstance, he desperately needed a whole bunch of edges dulled. Carlisle's heart was pounding a mile a minute as they approached the well-lit and noisy house. There were people everywhere, and he had the simultaneous urge to grab Edward's hand for comfort and to get as far away from his friend as possible, lest anyone assume they were together. He felt as though gay was stamped on his forehead, and there had to be someone here who had a problem with that.

After Edward found Bella and introduced the two of them, Carlisle agreed to her offer of alcohol embarrassingly quickly. But no one judged. In fact, Bella came back with a handsome, dark-skinned boy in tow. Each of them carried two drinks and two shots.

"Come on," Bella said over the din. "Why don't we go outside?"

The cool air of the evening was a welcome refuge to Carlisle's overheated skin. He followed, Edward tight at his side, to a spot just to the side of the pool where there was some lawn furniture set in the semi-darkness. There, the vice grip on his chest began to ease.

"This is Eleazar, by the way," Bella said as they sat down. "You'll like him. These were his idea." She set _both_ shots in front of Edward as Eleazar set both his shots on front of Carlisle.

Eleazar pounded his fist on the table. "Drink, drink. It'll help you relax." He winked, and Carlisle felt a thrill go down his spine. It occurred to him the man—who looked younger than Edward—was looking him up and down with an expression that suggested he liked what he was seeing.

Carlisle instantly dropped his gaze to the drinks in front of him, feeling his cheeks heat. He was both positive he was delusional and terrified he wasn't. "What's this?"

"Does it really matter?" When Carlisle chanced a glance up, a smirk played at Eleazar's lips.

"I guess not." Carlisle eyed the shot suspiciously.

"I can tell Biology isn't your major," Eleazar said.

"How's that?"

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression you can imbibe a drink through osmosis. That's not how it works, my friend." Eleazar grinned at him. "You have to drink it."

"Can you blame him for being careful?" Bella gave Eleazar a light smack to the arm. "We're a couple of strangers blatantly trying to get two very pretty men drunk."

Edward and Carlisle glanced at each other, each of them going pink in the cheeks.

"Really, you don't have to trust us," Bella said with a genuine smile. "There are straws over by the bar that will tell you if there's something in your drink if you're worried about that."

Carlisle sat up ramrod straight. "That's not… I'm not..." He huffed. The thought had passed through his mind, though not exactly in the context she was referring to. It was one of a million thoughts racing through his head. He was just out of sorts, that was all. There were a lot of people here, all of them strangers.

But none of that was Bella and Eleazar's fault. He'd wanted a drink, and he was being weird about it. They were looking at him with earnest, friendly, if amused expressions. He picked up the glass and took his shot, pressing his lips tightly together afterward to keep from wincing. "Tequila," he said, his voice a rasp.

"Oh, man. That's a dangerous game, isn't it?" Edward muttered, but he took his first shot too. He did wince, and Carlisle watched, oddly fascinated, as he licked his lips.

The burn must have passed, because Edward's pinched expression evened out as he glanced at Carlisle. When Edward smiled, the warmth that had followed the tequila shot down to his belly spread through Carlisle's blood to his cheeks. He smiled back, distracted momentarily by how handsome Edward was tonight. He knew how to dress, and he was hot.

Shock jolted through Carlisle at the thought. He glanced around, as though someone must have heard his inner monologue. Eleazar and Bella were still looking at him, and he had to tell himself it was his imagination that he could have sworn Eleazar's eyes darted between him and Edward. A chill went down his spine coupled with a rush of paranoia.

Carlisle grabbed for the second shot and downed it. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the alcohol made its way through his system, dulling the sharp points of panic.

Edward was attractive and Carlisle wasn't blind. There was nothing wrong with either of those things even if he had said them out loud, which he had not.

"Are you all right now?" Eleazar asked not unkindly.

Carlisle pressed his lips together, savoring the last few seconds of the sting. He breathed in through his nose and out again, letting his spastic thoughts fall into the slight buzz that had started between his ears. He nodded, relaxing. "Yeah. I'm good." He opened his eyes and looked to Edward. "You good?"

Edward choked on a little laugh, flashing a somewhat goofy smile. "This is why they call alcohol social lubricant, right?" He raised his empty shot glass and tipped it against Carlisle's. "We're now fit to be among normal people."

"Pfft." Bella looked around them. "I wouldn't go as far as using the word normal to describe college kids. Behold." She swept her arm out in a dramatic gesture. "Observe the college frat boy in the wild. The frat boy is a social species with many absurd rituals. Look at that one." She pointed to a blond-haired boy who was doing some kind of weird, ass-shaking dance in front of his friends. "Is it trying to attract a mate? Is it trying to establish dominance, or submissive willingness, within the pack? Is it trying to please the alpha male? The world may never know."

They got to the business of small talk then. Though there was noise and chaos all around them, their little corner of the party remained relatively peaceful. Once, a woman came over, wrapping her arms around Eleazar's neck and giving him a kiss as she spoke in his ear, but he shooed her away quickly enough.

It was easier to relax than Carlisle would have imagined, but that might have had more to do with the fact Bella and Eleazar were easy to get along with. They were kind, interesting people, and Carlisle found himself sitting up straight before long, leaning forward as he got more involved in the conversation.

Before Carlisle knew it, over an hour had passed. He'd nursed his drink to the last few sips when Eleazar got up, thumping him on the back and gesturing toward the house. "Come on. Let's go get another round."

Since they'd discovered they were both Monty Python fans, he and Eleazar had been wrapped up in a discussion about the films and the television show. As such, Carlisle didn't think twice about loping off with Eleazar, leaving Edward and Bella to their own devices.

Distracted by their conversation, it didn't really click to Carlisle that they were wading into a virtual sea of people. He didn't notice until a woman had tripped and fallen right into him. He raised his arms automatically to steady her, his eyes gone wide and startled.

She giggled. "Hey, thanks." Her eyes swept him up and down just as Eleazar's had earlier. Carlisle flushed. He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but a man who had a good twenty-five pounds on Carlisle appeared behind the woman looking none too pleased. He put a possessive hand on her shoulder, and Carlisle let her go, stumbling back a few steps.

He ran into someone else. That was when it occurred to him that he was surrounded by people.

The alcohol and easy conversation had the intended effect. His anxiety had dissipated at least enough that he knew in his rational mind that even if they knew he was gay, the people at this party who had a problem with it wouldn't jump straight to the conclusion they should kick his ass. Still, finding himself surrounded by people left him discombobulated. He knew it should be a simple matter to speak—apologize to the man he'd bumped into and say something benign to set the glaring, possessive man at ease. But his words jumbled, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

His tendency to ramble when he was nervous went into overdrive when he realized belatedly that this guy's problem was that he thought Carlisle was straight and making a move on his girl.

"Excuse me. Sorry."

Carlisle turned in the direction of Eleazar's voice. They must have gotten separated. Eleazar reached for him, grabbing his hand. He smiled at Carlisle. "I didn't mean to lose you."

"This one yours, El?" the glaring man asked, his features softening a degree.

Eleazar sighed dramatically. "If only. If only." He looked to Carlisle and winked quickly, still not letting go of his hand. Then, he turned back to the glaring man. "You don't have anything to worry about. Believe me. He's not interested in Lizzie." He gave Carlisle's hand a tug. "Come on."

Among other things, Carlisle felt a great sense of relief as he let the much younger man lead him through the throng of people. It got particularly crowded around the table of drinks, and Eleazar put an arm around Carlisle's shoulders.

"Sorry," he said, stepping to the side a bit when Carlisle stiffened. "I'm used to my sister."

Carlisle furrowed his brow, not quite following, and Eleazar laughed. "That sounds wrong. Uh, my sister's an introvert. Parties are hard for her, too. They get too people-y." He handed Carlisle two drinks before he picked up two of his own. He had to lean in, speaking near Carlisle's ear to be heard over the music and conversation. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Introvert." Carlisle turned the word over in his head. He hadn't thought about it before. He'd have used recluse or just plain weird. "Isn't the point that people make me uncomfortable?" He shrugged away to avoid colliding with yet another tipsy party-goer. "I like people just fine. I just don't want to be in their way."

"My sister likes people too, but they can get a bit overwhelming, that's all." He grinned at Carlisle. "But my bad if I was reading the signs wrong. Bella said Edward is a bit skittish. That doesn't mean you are."

"Not skittish. Just not used to parties." He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the tension and failing. "How did you know?" He asked softly. "I mean, that I'm gay?"

Eleazar looked startled. "You mean what I said to Jake the Hothead?" He laughed. "He's a nice guy most of the time, but he's kind of dumb when he's drunk. Gets real territorial. I was just throwing him off before he ruined a good time."

"Oh." Carlisle looked away quickly. He was embarrassed, but his paranoia was fading again.

"Though, I probably could have figured by the way you look at Edward."

Carlisle's head snapped up. "What?"

Eleazar stopped short. They were outside now, in the blessedly cool air. "Oh, man. Am I just sticking my foot in my mouth left and right?" He shook his head. "Look, full disclosure. I sat down at that table"—he nodded his head in the direction Edward and Bella still sat—"because that's three chances for a guy like me to have a shot at someone sexy and smart. I've been trying to figure out if Edward has you locked down and vice versa all night long."

"He doesn't," Carlisle said automatically, incredulous at the thought. Then, noting the way Eleazar lit up, he stumbled over his words. "But we don't… I mean, I don't…"

"Relax." Eleazar gave a laugh and hip bumped him lightly. "I'm picking up what you're putting down, and it's fine. Like I said. I had three chances tonight. You're only strike one."

Carlisle frowned. He didn't like the idea of Edward being strike two. He liked the idea of him being a possible score even less, but he didn't want to examine why that was yet. That was the whole reason Edward had wanted Carlisle there, right? To protect him from the pretty college boys? That was where his concern came from.

"Anyway." Eleazar started walking again. "I hope it's still okay to invite you to the movies next week. No funny business. It's a Monty Python marathon, and no one else I know would be interested. What do you think?"

This time it was Carlisle who came up short. He stared at the man, stunned for a couple of seconds before he regained his composure and kept walking. Friends, he'd said. When had the concept of friendship become so foreign to Carlisle? "Um. Yeah. That sounds like fun. I'll have to check my schedule, but yeah."

"Awesome."

When they got back to their little path on the wide yard, the first thing Carlisle noticed, as he set their drinks down in front of his place and Edward, was that Edward seemed moody. He cocked his head. "Are you okay?" he asked, leaning in so only Edward would hear.

"I'm fine." But his tone was clipped. He huffed, took a long drink, and swallowed audibly. "I'm fine," he repeated, his tone softer this time.

Perplexed, Carlisle sipped his own drink. Before he could think of what else to say, Bella laughed at something Eleazar had whispered in her ear. She had a coy smile on her face as she brought her drink up to his mouth and tilted it so he could drink. In the meantime, he smoothly slid his arm around her shoulder.

Carlisle had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The kid had game; no one could deny that.

Beside him, Edward looked from the canoodling couple to Carlisle and snickered. His smile came back, all the furrows of his brow smoothing out as he relaxed again.

 _ **~0~**_

"Are you guys going to be okay? Do you need help?" Bella asked, hanging out the back window of the car Carlisle and Edward had just vacated.

Edward cackled. "If we needed help, what are you going to do about it?"

"What? I can carry you to bed." Bella grinned widely, just as drunk as they were.

"Baby, I already told you I don't swing that way."

"I have him, Bella," Carlisle assured, slinging an arm around Edward's waist and pulling him up against him. They both swayed.

"Oh, yeah. I can see that. Whatever. Call me if you die."

That sent them all into hysterics. They were still giggling as the car pulled away, and Carlisle and Edward stumbled to the door.

This wasn't the first time Carlisle had ever been drunk, but this was the first time he could remember that it felt this nice. The room was spinning, and that was kind of annoying, but he liked that Edward was here with him.

He liked how Edward felt in his arms as they made their way inside. Carlisle had forgotten to let him go, but that was probably for the best. Edward had leaned all the way onto him throwing one arm across his shoulder. Made it harder to walk, but Carlisle didn't care about that. "Careful," he said as Edward's near-dead weight pulled them off course. "We don't want to get blood on the floor."

"Or brains. No brains."

"That would also be a bitch to clean up."

"Blood, guts, and bones," Edward said in a slurred sing-song.

Carlisle laughed and brought a hand up meaning to pat his cheek. Instead he kind of smacked it loosely and let his hand linger there. "You're drunk."

"No shit, Sherlock."

They were at Edward's room now. Carlisle tried to ease his friend down on the bed, but Edward grabbed his hand, pulling him down with him. "Oof," he said as Carlisle landed half on him.

"Sorry." Carlisle tried half-heartedly to get up, but between the lethargy in his limbs and Edward pulling him back, he lost the battle almost instantly.

"S'okay." Edward rolled onto his side, slinging an arm over Carlisle's waist and resting a head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. "You're warm."

"Yeah." He was very warm. And comfortable. He ran his fingers through Edward's hair. So soft. "I should get up."

"Why?" Edward mumbled, already half asleep.

Carlisle's eyes were drooping. He dipped his head, breathing Edward in. He smelled good. "Dunno," he admitted. There was a good reason he shouldn't be here like this, but he was far too distracted by the spinning in his head. Edward's weight felt good on his chest. That was strange, wasn't it?

It didn't matter enough for Carlisle to let the thought linger. His eyelids were so heavy.

Edward's breathing had evened out. Carlisle closed his eyes. Within seconds, he too was lost to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to Mina, Eleanor, Packy, MoH, and Betsy for all their help.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Oh, look. This story still exists. I have no idea why this particular story only comes to me in a trickle… Thanks so much for bearing with me.**

* * *

Edward came awake slowly. He was overheated—his side wet against his shirt— but he was also so comfortable. It was more than just his position. It was an inundation to his senses. He breathed in a warm, musky scent that filled him with a sense of safety. There was a firm weight at his back, anchoring him, and a soft, steady breath in his ear.

His eyes flew open, and he raised his head, looking around the room. The surroundings were familiar—his room, his bed—but the circumstances weren't.

He'd never woken up with a man in his bed before.

Behind him, Carlisle sighed in his sleep. His arm, slung around Edward's waist, tightened. Edward lay carefully back down, shocked further when he felt the soft press of Carlisle's lips against his shoulder.

Was Carlisle awake? Seducing him? It was what he wanted. Edward was finding that fact harder and harder to ignore. But when the older man's breath remained even, Edward realized he was still sleeping.

Edward stayed awake a while longer, relaxing back into the warmth of Carlisle's loose embrace. There was a strange feeling in his chest, like his heart was at once filled with happiness and clenched with overwhelming fear.

It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to contemplate what his future might look like. Even before he'd found himself out on the street, he wasn't sure he'd ever thought of this—waking up in someone's arms, in a place he called home.

It wasn't that he necessarily pictured Carlisle in the role of his future partner, though he had to admit it wasn't a fantasy he was willing to discard. It was more that he had a desire for a future that looked very much like this—waking up in his home beside a man who was so good to him, kind and concerned with his wellbeing.

Even if he couldn't have Carlisle as a lover or a partner, there was no question the man was his friend. For a while there, friends were a foreign concept to Edward. His life experience had taught him the friends of his youth were fickle friends indeed. But, he was beginning to believe he could trust Carlisle. And Bella. And he'd consider Eleazar an acquaintance he enjoyed after last night.

Holy hell. He had the real beginnings of a social circle.

"Edward," Carlisle whispered in his sleep.

Edward froze. Carlisle nuzzled his neck, the tip of his nose tickling his skin through his hair. "Edward," he whispered again. His legs came up to the backs of Edward's pushing his open.

For a few seconds, as Carlisle pressed kisses just behind his ear. Edward just breathed, unsure of whether or not he should move. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know what this was. Was Carlisle still drunk? Still asleep?

Was it possible this is what he really wanted?

Edward closed his eyes tightly, wavering between desire and fear. If Carlisle was asleep or still drunk, this could ruin the friendship he treasured. He reached behind him, grasping Carlisle's waist, and gave him a shake.

Carlisle's breath hitched and his movements stopped. Edward played possum. Carlisle shifted backward a few inches, sighed, and fell back into a deep sleep.

 _~0~_

Edward had dozed another couple of hours before restlessness had him easing out of bed. He didn't have a hangover, but he was thirsty and hungry. A greasy, carb-laden breakfast seemed like just the thing.

As he moved around the kitchen, Edward did his best to ignore his awareness of the man still asleep in his room. His crush, the gentle stirrings of attraction, had gone into full blown desire in the space of a second. He kept trying to convince himself Carlisle was just dreaming, and Edward was a warm body beside him. But he had said his name. Kissed his ear and whispered the word on a breath.

It seemed like it should be forbidden or taboo, but Edward couldn't figure why. Sure, Carlisle was older than he was, but not by an obscene amount. And yes, Edward had known Carlisle's son, but then, Carlisle had been a young father.

Not wrong, he decided. If anything, it could be a good thing. A great thing.

No one in his life had ever shown Carlisle love. He knew there'd been men, but no loving arms. Edward could do that. He could love him.

Edward stopped with the spatula midair. Love? That was overdoing it. Even if it wasn't way too much, he was in no position to love anyone, was he?

It was crazy.

But, they were friends. It would be intimate. Good.

He could be so good to Carlisle.

"Hey."

Edward shivered. Carlisle's voice was delightfully scratchy. Whatever switch had been flipped, Edward couldn't help the instant fantasy—Carlisle coming up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder and whispering in his ear with that sleep-rough voice.

He cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder. "Hey." Then, he smiled, amused. "You doing okay?"

Carlisle groaned and sat down hard at his kitchen table, his elbows on the table. "I'm embarrassed."

"What? Why?"

"God." Carlisle rubbed his head, digging the heel of his palm in hard. "This is pathetic. I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Edward blinked, replaying the words in his head. "Do you think you did something stupid?"

"I shouldn't have gotten that drunk. I shouldn't be drinking at all. Why would you want to do something that only makes you stupid?"

"It was a party, Carlisle. That's kind of what you're supposed to do."

"It's wrong," Carlisle said, but his tone was mechanical.

"Do you believe that?"

There was silence for a beat or two. Then, Carlisle laughed, and hung his head. "My father did. He gave sermons about it. The evils of alcohol."

Edward scoffed. He flipped the last of the pancakes onto the plate and put the whole stack in the center of the table as he sat down. One beat past, then two. Edward reached out and took his hand and squeezed it.

He meant to let go. He really did. It was just that when he touched Carlisle's skin, the air seemed to fill with static electricity. His breath caught, and he saw Carlisle start, his fingers twitching against the tabletop and the underside of Edward's palm.

Carlisle's eyes flicked from their hands up to Edward's face. For a split second, his gaze was full of want and possibility.

Something _had_ changed, and he wasn't the only one who thought so.

Carlisle pulled back and wiped his hands on his pants. He offered Edward a shaky smile. "You made breakfast."

Edward swallowed hard. "You're observant this morning." He poured a glass of orange juice. "How's the hangover anyway?"

"I'm not really hungover." Carlisle sat up straighter. "Just a little lethargic and dehydrated."

"I'll get you some water." Edward stood up, but he didn't have a chance to take a step before Carlisle's hand darted out, catching him by the wrist.

Again, the static in the air had him frozen. He looked back to Carlisle, finding him looking up at him, and it was all he could do not to bend down to kiss him. He licked his lips. Carlisle's eyes followed the movement.

"I can get it," Carlisle said, his voice gone scratchy again. He stood up, and he was right in Edward's bubble space. "You shouldn't serve me."

Now, Edward did reach up. He brushed Carlisle's hair out of his eyes, stopping himself from cupping his cheek. "It's not a service. It's just caring. Has anyone ever cared for you?"

Carlisle scoffed. "Of course," he said, but the words were weak.

Edward did cup his cheek then. He licked his lips again. "I care for you. Do you know that?"

Carlisle's lips had fallen open, his breath staggered. His eyes were uncertain still, but he also hadn't pulled away. "Edward…"

Edward pushed forward, closing the last inch between them to kiss him. It was a mere brush of his lips, testing the waters for both of them. He closed his eyes, his heart beating fast.

Wanting to do this—kiss men—had cost him everything, and his psyche hadn't forgotten that. He hesitated, but now that he'd had a taste, he couldn't think about anything else. The last twig in the dam broke.

He held back one more heartbeat, giving Carlisle the chance to pull away. When he didn't, Edward slung an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He kissed him full on, tasting the mint of his toothpaste. He wanted to take everything, press his tongue to Carlisle's mouth and demand admittance, but fast and hard wasn't the way this was going to happen.

Because he cared. Because, when he put his hand against his chest, he could feel Carlisle's heart pounding a mile a minute.

Because he knew Carlisle had been with men who'd had him hard and fast enough that he could pretend he was a different person who could have the things he wanted.

Edward breathed in through his nose. He drew his fingertips up the line of Carlisle's neck and cupped his cheeks in both hands this time. He stroked his cheeks, soothing as he moved his lips with a gentle pressure. Carlisle put a tentative hand to his waist, then let it slip to the small of his back, his fingers spread wide.

Carlisle pulled back with a gasp, twisting around clapping a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry," he said raggedly.

Edward licked his lips, still a little punch-drunk because damn. Holy hell, kissing Carlisle had been out of this world. He was flying, so blissed out that he wasn't ready to accept the nose dive the other man was trying to put him into. "You're sorry? I kissed you."

"Yes, but I…" Carlisle shook his head, running his hand through his hair. He still hadn't turned around. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I… You're my… It's not…"

Edward hooked a finger in the waistband of Carlisle's pants, pulling him backward. He put both his hands at Carlisle's waist and enacted the little fantasy he'd had earlier in reverse. He brushed his lips against the shell of Carlisle's ear, smiling at the shudder that went through the other man. "It's not what?" he whispered near his ear. "I'm your what?" He kissed the shell of his ear. "I'm your friend?" He kissed his cheek. "Who cares about you?" He kissed the corner of his mouth. "And who, just a few seconds ago, figured out he really likes kissing you?"

Carlisle laughed—the sound breathy as his hand came over Edward's against his belly. He closed his eyes, and sighed. "But—"

The high of Carlisle's kisses had finally faded enough that Edward realized he was being pushy. That stunned him a bit. In his former life, he'd been just a little bit pushy—arrogant and assured. But he knew how to take no for an answer when his intended pushed back. He took a step away from Carlisle, letting him go. "If it's not what you want, that's okay."

"It's not about what I want." Carlisle turned around. He was looking down at the ground, not at Edward, but he did take his hands in a loose hold. "It's about what's right."

"Hmm." Edward twined their fingers together. "Because your father had a few sermons about the teachings of Leviticus?"

"No," Carlisle said, too quickly. "It's not that. It's...The power dynamics are uncomfortable."

Edward's lip quirked. He ducked his head to catch Carlisle's eyes. "You mean that, theoretically, if we start something and I don't do what you want, you could kick my ass to the curb?"

"I would never do that."

"I know." Edward brushed his fingers through Carlisle's hair. "I understand what you mean. The age difference. Who I was to your son. The set up. Only an asshole would target someone in my vulnerable position." He crooked his finger beneath Carlisle's chin and lifted his head up. "But you didn't target me. You were my savior, and then you were my friend." He brushed his thumb over Carlisle's lips. "If we'd met in a different way, when neither of us were scared, but we liked each other?" Another quirk of his lips. "And there was an attraction?"

Carlisle ducked his head again, his cheeks flushing, but he smiled.

"Would you kiss me then?" Edward asked.

Carlisle released a long, slow breath. Then, he chuckled. The sound wry and sad. "Probably not."

"But not because you didn't want to?" Edward guessed.

Carlisle didn't answer. After a beat, he lifted his head, his eyes full of want and all the hurt he'd been through.

Edward pulled him forward into an innocent but engulfing hug. "There's a lot of things that shouldn't happen." He rubbed Carlisle's back in slow circles. "Fathers shouldn't hurt their children."

Carlisle sucked in a breath, his hands, at Edward's hips, tightening a fraction.

"Parents shouldn't abandon their children," Edward continued, ignoring the pang of emptiness that echoed in his heart. "Assholes should take no for an answer, so brave, amazing strangers wouldn't have to step in to save the damsels in distress like me."

Carlisle shuddered, and Edward held him tighter. "I don't know anymore what the world is supposed to be. I know what the world is. Maybe I shouldn't want to kiss you, but I do. That's all."

For a long minute, they just held each other. Edward was about to pull back, make some comment about how what they really shouldn't do is let his good breakfast get ruined while they debated world philosophy, but before he could, Carlisle straightened out of their hug.

For a beat. Two. Three, he looked over Edward's face. Then, he cupped his cheek, ducked his head, and kissed him.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks again for your patience.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I KNOW right? I have baked and birthed a brand new human since last this updated. AND she's about to turn three months old. Yikes. That's quite a chunk of time. Sorry. The flow of this story throws me off, apparently. Thank you for your patience!**

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Carlisle woke with a quick intake of breath as a delicious tingle raced up his spine. He blinked, trying to orient himself with little luck. There was too much sensation. He was already coiled at his core—close to orgasm. A firm heat pressed up against his back. The tickle of light kisses dotted his shoulders interspersed with little nips that made him gasp.

Edward. His mind managed to cling to the one word. Edward was in his bed.

Because that was where he'd been when Carlisle drifted off to sleep. He'd been there because they'd done a dance down the hallway the night before. A graceless dance. Fumbling hands pulling and tugging at clothing; one of them pushing the other up against the wall for fervent kisses because they couldn't wait to reach the bedroom. He'd never smiled so hard as he cupped Edward's face in his hands. He couldn't remember feeling so connected to another person. He'd had sex, but this was different.

Last night, he'd lost himself inside Edward, pressing his legs back as he climbed on top of him. This morning, he let Edward push him onto his belly, twining their fingers together above his head as Edward moved inside him.

Sex used to be a means to an ends—a way to fill his desperate need for touch. Before Edward, it left him more empty than when he started. Slowly, though, Carlisle had the experiences he'd missed out on. The spectrum of sex with Edward had fun at one end and, like this morning, something more.

He was cresting a wave of pleasure when a thought hit him, knocking all the breath from his lungs.

He didn't deserve this. It was impossible that someone could touch him like this, take care of him. Bad father. Bad son. Bad. Wrong. His body tensed, the sensation of pleasure making his heart twist painfully in his chest.

"You feel so good, baby," Edward whispered, dropping kisses along the shell of his ear. "You're so good."

Carlisle sucked in a breath, letting the words sink in. He remembered what Edward told him so often. Sometimes, it didn't matter what the voice in his head said. Some things were what they were. Edward cared for him. He wanted to touch him like this, with tenderness and desire.

With that, Carlisle let go of thought again. His body relaxed, and he gave himself over entirely to experiencing this moment, feeling the way Edward filled him, set his skin on fire and sent electricity through his bloodstream.

If a man like Edward thought he was good, he couldn't possibly be that bad.

When they were both spent, it was minutes before Carlisle could move again. Not just because he was pinned. Edward was draped over his body, slick and heavy, panting in his ear. He liked the weight of him, his heat. He liked that there was no space at all between them.

He couldn't move because he was boneless, thoughtless. He was made of something content and happy.

He was so, so happy.

And terrified if he even breathed wrong, it would all blow away in the wind.

Edward moved first, rolling off him. They both rolled onto their sides. They didn't speak. Carlisle rested his hand on Edward's waist. Edward trailed his fingertips along Carlisle's arm, his touch and his look so tender, Carlisle had to swallow hard not to choke on the emotion it brought up in him.

His heartbeat stuttered when Edward's fingers found the long, thick scar on his left wrist. He closed his eyes—the only way he could hide.

He'd survived. That was supposed to be his punishment for what he'd done, how he'd failed his father and his son. He held his breath.

"I'm glad you're here with me," Edward said, his voice soft.

Carlisle let out a long, slow breath and moved to gather Edward in his arms. "I am too," he admitted.

 _ **~0~**_

For hours, days, weeks at a time, life no longer felt like a punishment.

Edward coaxed Carlisle to go back to Disneyland a couple more times as the months passed. It still felt odd to be there as an adult, but he had to admit he enjoyed it.

"This place has moods," Edward said as they reached Main Street. He twined his fingers through Carlisle's, his head turned up as he looked around. "Have you noticed that?"

Carlisle tried to ignore the simultaneous thrill and nervous energy that went through him at Edward's simple gesture. He looked around, self-conscious, and swallowed hard. "I'm not here nearly as much as you are." Though he had noticed that, even from the adults, the atmosphere at Disneyland was oddly tranquil. Oh, sure, here and there you could find the odd exasperated parent and a child mid-meltdown, but most of the people in the park were having fun.

"In the summer, there's a buzz around this place."

"Bees, I would think."

Edward smirked and nudged him. "I mean that everyone is more excited. Hyper. And during October...I don't know how to explain it. People just seemed more mischievous?" He shook his head and gestured at the huge Christmas tree that stood at the entrance to Main Street. "Now, I feel more nostalgic maybe? I don't know the word for it. Just that it feels warm and comfortable and peaceful to be here now."

"Christmas magic," Carlisle mused. The street was lined with Christmas decorations. The windows were painted with snowy scenes. The scent of cinnamon was heavy in the air. He breathed in deep, more of the anxiety easing.

He had to admit Edward was right. There was something peaceful about being here now when the summer heat had finally faded. Though he wasn't sure how much of it was Disneyland at Christmastime versus being here with the man at his side.

"Hey, guys."

Carlisle and Edward turned as Bella came trotting up. Carlisle choked on a laugh when he saw what she was holding—a turkey leg almost the size of her head. "Are you eating that?" he couldn't help but ask.

She quirked an eyebrow. "I considered using it as a weapon, but they frown on bludgeoning people with poultry here. Might as well eat it."

They all decided on an early dinner from the carts. Edward opted for a chimichanga—which was also obscenely large—and Carlisle got a hot dog. They settled on a bench, talking and laughing at Bella's attempts to eat the ginormous turkey leg without making a greasy mess of her face. They talked about her burgeoning relationship with Eleazar and her (feigned) jealousy over the fact he and Carlisle met every couple of weeks for movie night.

"You're intimidatingly pretty," Bella claimed, mock-scowling at him.

Carlisle followed amiably as they road Star Tours and Buzz Lightyear's Astroblasters. He joined Edward in his quest to get their teacup to spin at top speed as Bella screamed at them both to stop, cackling at the top of her lungs. And as evening turned into full-fledged night, he joined them indoors for hot chocolate and candied apples.

"What are you thinking about?" Edward asked when they were driving home.

Carlisle sighed, a little nervous. "I was thinking you do a lot of nice things for me, sharing your work perks." He paused a beat, but then said what he'd been thinking about for the last couple of weeks. "I was wondering if you might want to go with me to the Christmas party at my work."

Edward sucked in a breath. "A Christmas party."

"They cater it, I think. A nice buffet-style dinner. Chocolate fountain. Two free drinks at the bar."

"Is there dancing?"

Carlisle's cheeks flushed and he had to stop himself from grinning at the idea. "I don't know, honestly. I've never been."

Edward paused. "You've never gone...but you want to go now?" With me, he didn't say.

"Might be fun."

"Yeah. Yes. Let's do it."

 _ **~0~**_

When he heard a few of the nurses in his unit talking, Carlisle didn't think anything about chiming in. They were talking about the songs they were going to request from the DJ, and he was distracted when he spoke.

"So there is dancing," he said, head bent over the paperwork he was filling out for their newest patient.

It took him a few seconds to realize the small space was suddenly bathed in silence. He raised his head and found the others staring at him, eyes wide. Self-consciousness made his skin prickle.

"You're going to the Christmas party?" Esme, a nurse around his age, asked.

"I...yes?" He didn't know why it had come out like a question.

The other two nurses, Siobhan and Maggie, looked at each other and laughed. Carlisle wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Was there some kind of faux pas? Was he, as a man, not supposed to be interested in Christmas parties? What would his father have to say about it? Frivolous, probably, but why would that bother them if they were going, presumably bringing their significant others too?

"Sorry." Esme touched his shoulder briefly, looking abashed. "It's just that you've never been to the Christmas party."

"Or any of the other parties," Siobhan said.

"Oh." Carlisle rubbed the back of his neck. He remembered, then, how the other nurses had asked him out over the years. Not in a romantic way, but the others socialized on occasion. He'd been invited to drinks several times. People asked if he was going to the Christmas party or the summer picnic or whatever event the others were attending. His answer had always been no.

"So…" Maggie plopped down in the chair next to him, smiling brightly, her expression too innocent. "You're interested in dancing?"

His cheeks flushed hot, and he averted his gaze. The women cackled. "You have a date?" Siobhan guessed.

"I…" He straightened his shoulders. He refused to be ashamed of Edward. He didn't deserve that after all he'd been through. "Yeah. Yes."

"That's good." Esme squeezed his shoulder again. "That's so good. We were worried about you."

He arched an eyebrow. "You were?"

"You've never been a chatty Cathy, Carlisle, but the last couple of years?" Maggie patted his knee.

"But you've looked so much happier recently. This is why, right?" Siobhan asked. "Your date?"

"Tell us about her," Maggie said. "Or him?"

Carlisle pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and breathed in and out, his eyes darting between the three women. "Him," he said quietly.

Maggie snapped. "Knew it."

Carlisle smiled wryly. "That's the normal assumption for a man in my profession."

Esme scoffed. "Ah, I'm afraid not in this case. We didn't suspect one way or another until you gave yourself away."

"What are you talking about?"

Siobhan's grin was full of glee. "A few years ago an insanely attractive, charming guy came in? You were stumbling over your feet just like the rest of us." She sighed, her eyes gone dreamy. "So handsome. And that accent. You know I love a man with an accent."

Esme rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "Yes, dear. We know you love your husband's accent."

"Liam?" Carlisle asked, his voice almost squeaky. "You're talking about Liam?"

"We're talking about how you were lusting after my now-husband just like the rest of us." Siobhan wagged a teasing finger in his face. "But there are more interesting things to talk about than my husband. He's old news. Let's hear about this date of yours."

 **~0~**

"I didn't realize," he told Esme some days later when she coaxed him into accompanying her to lunch. "That any of you thought about me at all outside of interacting for work purposes."

"Of course we did. Carlisle, we've worked together for so many years. We're a family." Esme sighed, her eyes pinched at the corners. "You've always been a hard man to read. Quiet. And after you lost your son, your father… of course, we would expect you to be withdrawn. But we did worry that you weren't okay."

Carlisle considered her for a few beats. "I wasn't."

"But you're doing better now?"

He had to smile. "Getting there, I think." The words were a revelation to himself.

 _ **~0~**_

"Good god."

Carlisle stepped outside the door to his room and came to a halt, his mouth going dry. He ran a hand over his face, taking in the sight in front of him.

Edward ducked his head, hiding a smirk. He crossed the hall, coming to stand before Carlisle. "Don't look at me like that," he said, his voice low and rough around the edges. He took another step and tilted his head so his lips were near Carlisle's ear. "If you look at me like you want to rip my clothes off, we're never going to make it to this party."

Carlisle caught Edward by the hips before he pulled away. He let his eyes drift down, drinking in the sight of him. He sighed. "It's obscene how good you look all dressed up."

"Obscene?" Edward rested his hands on Carlisle's chest, palms flat. "Are you saying I need censoring?"

"Censoring?" Carlisle laughed, trailing his hands up and down Edward's sides. "I was going to ask you how you propose I go about censoring you, but then I realized how ridiculous that sounded. I'm never going to be smooth, I suppose."

Edward laughed. "That's corny as hell," he confirmed, and then he kissed Carlisle sweetly. "Come on," he said with a contented sigh as their kiss broke. "You promised me a Christmas party."

"I did." He dropped his hand to take Edward's. "Now would probably be a good time to warn you about my coworkers."

"The ones who have an intimate knowledge of how to remove my blood from my body?"

"Not all of it. And anyway, this is a no-needles-allowed party."

"Oh, good." He grinned, full of cheek, and put his hand over Carlisle's on the shifter. "How about sponge baths? I've heard nurses are good at those."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would."

Carlisle's pants were getting tight. He was beginning to rethink this Christmas party idea for more than the usual reason. "Never mind. I'll let you walk into the lion's den unprepared."

"Wait, what? What lions? What den?"

Carlisle chuckled and pressed down on the gas. He was more eager than he could have imagined to spend the night with this man and his friends.

 **~Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs: Social~**

 _The third tier of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs have to do with love and belonging—the need for family, friendship, and a sense of connection to other people. The need for emotional intimacy._


End file.
